Once Upon a Time Machine
by Shadowmistress13
Summary: Companion Piece to Happily Ever Never Cornelius' myriad of victories and defeats in his epic courtship with Franny. Because knowing who the love of your life is, doesn't make wooing her any easier.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I Do NOT own Meet the Robinsons…Nope…

AN: Hey there! Still Alive over here. And plotting dastardly things…my favorite past time.

Decided to give Romance another go! This here is a Companion Piece to Happily Ever Never. Can be read alone…whatever floats your boat.^^

Special Thanks to GigitheRagDoll and MissingthePoint for nudging me towards more experimentation with fluff. Braving the Unknown is rather fun I admit. ^^

Hopefully you'll enjoy it!

* * *

Once Upon a Time Machine

* * *

**Murphy's Law:** Anything that Can go Wrong…Will.

Where was it? He dug through his dresser, haphazardly pulling out shirts and vests in his desperation.

Where could it be? He swore he'd laid it all out last night, but now…He had his black slacks, shirt, and jacket on…but his tie! Where was his tie?

He was losing his marbles…so this was where his future son would inherit his insanity from…Dear ol' Dad.

In spite of himself, he smiled at the thought of Wilbur, fondly reminiscing over their conversations.

He frowned suddenly. If he didn't get his act together…Wilbur…No! No he couldn't think like that! He had plenty of time to achieve his Happily Ever After.

He swallowed, the daunting task seeming even more impossible at sixteen than it had as a twelve-year-old orphan. Darn hormones…

He glanced nervously at his closet length mirror, running a fretful hand through his spiky hair.

His glasses slid down his thin nose, and he fiddled with them a bit; Mom and Dad said they were a mark of intellect, but they were parents…they were obligated to say placating words of comfort…what would SHE think of them…

Too nerdy? He bit his lip and checked his watch for the umpteenth time, he was already twenty minutes behind schedule, if he wanted to arrive on time, he needed to leave…now.

He sighed, head hanging, it's a shame because he picked the tie especially for…

His eyes widened. There we go!

He grabbed the tie, little devil daring to slip beneath the foot of his bed!

Dark, emerald green. Perfect. Bound to catch her eye. In fact, it was the first item he'd bought. He'd tentatively approached a store clerk, holding out the tie and asking if she could help him build a suit around it.

Well she talked to another saleslady who talked to another who recognized him from a magazine, and soon he had a flock of middle-aged women eager to help him. Was it for prom? Who was the lucky lady?

They tried to dissuade him. That green wasn't a friendly color for blonds. And though no one voiced it, he could hear 'especially ones as pale as you.' That the light green shirt would wash him out, make him look sickly.

But he was adamant: green was mandatory. Her favorite color was green…

He had to use every advantage he could get.

* * *

The directors gushed over him as he strode through the lobby. All thanking him profusely for attending, that who could be a better speaker than him?

He responded that he's always been an avid lover of scientific innovation.

They complimented him over and over on his successes. How great it was that someone his age can show such support for others—very inspiring, they wish their children could act like that.

Made him feel terribly artificial—rattling him because he couldn't answer truthfully.

The real reason he was here was because he looked over the pamphlet last month, when they first offered a spot for him in their presentation and saw her name…

* * *

He drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair, set out in the middle of the stage beside several others. Strategically placed for him, Miss Angelle, and four members of their city's Project Science Committee (a.k.a. readers of names and handshakers).

He spotted her immediately; the carnation pink ensemble making a lovely contrast with her dark hair.

Clearly he wasn't the only one who thought so. The boys standing in line were eyeballing her—craning their necks for a better view.

He scowled.

Feeling distinctly ruffled at the way they're raking their eyes over her. And who wouldn't? That dress hardly hid her blossoming curves.

His sight trailed down to the end of her dress, where very nicely shaped calves came into view. If his eyes were drawn to them more often than one could deem proper it was because he admired athletic ladies…who did karate…and would someday marry him.

A boy not far in front of her took that moment to bend down and tie his shoe, attempting to flex nonexistent muscles.

She never batted an eye.

He's somewhere caught between relief and exasperation. Thankfully, she remained ignorant of the blatant flirtations—walking through life with blinders on—

Of course it also made things difficult for him…did she not notice him or did she CHOOSE to ignore him?

He'd been staring at her for the better part of the last five minutes. Couldn't she _**feel**_ the weight of his gaze?

Franny began playing with an earring—amazing, how she could even make bored an alluring expression. Her gaze swept over the stage and meeting his, finally!

Her expression brightened and she waved energetically, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Smiling…at him…for him. His heart swelled—no one could fake that. Her eyes shined.

Nancy Angelle, another speaker for the awards presentation, and a fellow classmate at his university, approached and took her seat beside him.

Sure they'd butted heads in the beginning, but they'd come to an understanding that there was indeed room enough for TWO child prodigies at their school.

She adjusted her glasses, flicking her blonde hair off her shoulder as she smiled playfully, "Your girlfriend's cute."

"Thanks…uh-er…well, sh-she actually isn't m-my-" he spluttered.

"Looks like she'd like to be" She leaned forward, muttering in his ear "Stop overanalyzing Science Guy! Go for it Neil!"

* * *

The lights had dimmed—the buzzing of the crowd dulling to silence.

Cornelius swallowed once as the spotlight hit his podium.

Cornelius cleared his throat as the microphone adjusted to his voice.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I am proud to commence this occasion. These young men and women have proven their merit in this year's 64th annual Junior League Science Exploration Society Exhibition."

He privately applauded himself for not mucking up that mouthful. He knows even now that when he has his own company in the future. He's keeping these titles short: R.I.'s Youthful Achievers. Done. Concise. Neat.

"Proudly sponsored by InventCo and SynTech. Too often, we take the quality of our lives for granted. Anchored in the Present, most of us have trouble seeing beyond our daily struggles. Pop quizzes, traffic jams, water bills" the audience chuckled supportively.

"Yet these individuals were able to see beyond that. Gifted with the ability to focus on the Future; Their Future, Your Future, OURS. Determined to make it a better, greater place for all of us with bold ideas, unique theories—fresh new perspectives that will revolutionize the world!"

"So encourage them! Applaud their unwavering bravery! Dream WITH them and we can all make something truly amazing. I ask you…to be brave with them. Let go of your Present and Keep Moving Forward to a Brilliant Tomorrow. I ask you to support these Science Pioneers. I hope you'll be inspired by these incredible visionaries,"

He thought of one pig-tailed girl in particular, who'd grow up to be an amazing woman.

"As _**they've**_ inspired me. Thank you."

The crowd cheered.

"Well there you have it, a brilliant speech by our city's very own rising prodigy Cornelius Robinson" the announcer stated taking the microphone. "We'd like to give him a special thank you for coming here tonight. Our Science Exploration Society awards Cornelius L. Robinson the Certificate of Scientific Prestige. Its one thing to be truly brilliant as a scientist, quite another to be truly respectable as a man—Here's to Mr. Robinson achieving both with dignity despite his young age."

Another roar of approval sounded.

Nancy gave him an approving nod as he sat down beside her. Feeling rather numb, shocked by how high he was placed in their esteem. He stared at the award in his hand.

"Good job, Science Guy" she murmured "See? Nerds can win too."

He shook his head smiling. Early on in their friendship, in a moment of particular insecurity concerning his self-identity, he'd made the mistake of venting to her.

Movies and books always depicted burly macho men, handsome Fabios, and average Joes as the heroes. They either had six-pack abs and couldn't spell "cliché" or won a lady with blunt statements or Shakespearean monologues. Unrealistic.

Not that the female heroines were much better. The girls were usually supermodel glamorous or lovably ordinary. And they always behaved on one side of the spectrum or the other: completely self-sufficient dominatrix or willowy locked in a tower damsel. Tch. Impractical. No man would want to be brow-beaten all the time, or waste his whole life gallivanting after a woman who couldn't keep herself safe.

But what really got him, was how smart people were always Villains, or Mad Scientists, or eccentric babbling FOOLS who were inept in all other areas of life. You know SOCIAL FAILURES doomed to grow up into Cat Ladies or Bizarre Uncles.

Didn't Hollywood ever stop to THINK how HARD that made it for the scientifically gifted? It pretty much screamed that Nerds like THEM shouldn't hope for Fairy Tale endings.

She'd blown up like a grenade and didn't talk to him for a week. It'd taken an intricate explanation from his mother to understand that he'd inadvertently offended his friend.

Apparently, implicating to a girl that she didn't fit into the Pretty Heroine Category and that her fate as a Smart Person may lead her to becoming a Cat Lady…was highly insulting.

Thankfully, a healthy bout of groveling cleared it all up and she'd come to realize that all of that was based on his OWN fears.

Which led into him…telling her about Franny.

Nancy smiled once more before focusing politely on the speaker.

Her speech would come after the names were read and then he'd have one last closing spiel.

His eyes flitted over to the sidelines, privately pleased at the look of awe gracing many of his peers' faces.

But there was only one person he wanted to impress. He wondered how that would look on her. She was usually so confident, so unshakeable, so…Franny. He briefly fantasized how it'd be; her glancing demurely up at him through her long dark lashes, blushing prettily as she admired his achievements.

Terribly unlikely…but he could dream right?

The announcer started reading off the names and Cornelius waited with anticipation.

"Abigail Allens"

* * *

"Francesca Framagucci"

He clapped excitedly, waiting for her to appear so that he can cheer her on.

She doesn't.

Her name's repeated.

The next name's called.

Where was she?

He just saw her a little while ago. What happened?

She wouldn't miss it on purpose. She was dressed for this occasion—rather nicely too…extremely nice.

Cornelius stood, feeling Nancy's gaze on him the whole time as he abruptly left the stage.

He was ruining the presentation. They both knew it. They both knew why.

He glanced back once he was safely on the sidelines.

Rather than looking disapproving, her face was decidedly smug.

Turning to face him, she held up her hands and lightly touched them together while mouthing "KISS HER."

She grinned as he blushed madly and offered him a thumbs-up.

* * *

Harassing the remaining teens in line proved fruitless, and he found himself confronting the stage manager and demanding to know where she went.

A techie not much older than him caught his eye, motioning to the bright green exit.

He offered a sincere "thank you" and hurried away.

* * *

"Fran?" he called out—anxiety rising. He sprinted through the empty lobby and out the front entrance. Did something happen? He hoped she wasn't hurt.

Nerves? It was hard to believe fearless Fran could have stage fright.

Maybe he should've knocked on the ladies' restroom. Just in case. Maybe she wasn't out here at all. He hoped she wasn't. It was awful cold, and that little dress she was wearing would hardly offer any warmth.

Not to mention, that cold, late-night parking lots were no place for a lady—let alone one as radiant and lovely as Miss Francesca Framagucci.

"Franny?" he repeated more loudly.

He was about to call one more time when he saw her. The night wind blew her dress carelessly up past her knees. He swallowed, pulse increasing.

She looked over her shoulder, surprise clear in her features.

Caught like a deer in the headlights, he floundered—out of breath from the run here and…something else…something that's put his heart in a strangle-hold "They said-you-spr-sprinted out here. Is everything okay?"

She turned a rigid smile on her pink lips, "Oh my cell was about to go off, it vibrates twice before starting an obnoxious song. I didn't want to be a bother so I-I, ya know-" she gestured wildly with a hand.

She was lying. He knew it as plain as the nose on his face. How could he not? If his smooth-talking future son couldn't shoot one past him, his blunt but sincere future wife never stood a chance.

And they were so alike—their faces fully expressing every emotion that flitted through their heart.

The slightest eyebrow twitch, quirk of the lips, shade of their eyes…which did change… Different shades of brown depending on their mood. Bright and reflective when happy, dark and hollow when sad. So blatantly obvious to him.

In a handful of exchanges, he's dealt with their future son—He knows those eyes too well to be deceived. Her eyes…

Wife or Son. Not-so-secret Crush or Best Friend. It was painful seeing those eyes filled with unhappiness.

"Fran?" He frowned, not buying her act for a second. "They read off your name" he started a bit unsurely—_Duh, Genius, she probably knew that—that's what they do at these events_, "You…you didn't appear." _Thank you, Captain Obvious._ "If you come back right now, they might be able to read it again at the end. I could ask if you like?"

"Its fine" She replied sharply—a fixed smile freezing her features.

Such a plastic smile, not at all the one she's capable of—the heartwarming, quench your soul's thirst one he knows she can give. The one where you know you'd do anything to make this woman happy…just for a glimpse of it again.

"Franny? I don't mind. I can ask them. I can. If that's what you want I-"

_I'll have them read your name as many times as you want._

He swallowed, moving closer—determined to fix it; clear away her sadness, make her smile…for him…

"No, I don't want to be here actually" she admitted bluntly. She blinked rapidly as though surprised she admitted that.

He set his hands on her shoulders.

Something he does to Wilbur when he visits spontaneously, and he's sure the kid's lying through his teeth about having permission.

In this day and age, Neil's taller than his time-traveling thirteen-year-old. And if Neil's height was impressive when compared to his colt-legged boy, he towers over fourteen year-old Franny. Making her seem all the more petite and feminine.

It doesn't help that the shoulders under his hands don't elicit platonic feelings of affection.

No…these ones are smooth and soft and make his brain hazy.

"Fran" he murmured.

She smiled more brightly; face stretching tightly, before ducking her head down.

He followed her line of sight and stared as well; pretty little feet all done up in pearl pink nail polish, strapped in silver shoes that HAD to be terrible for her arches.

He should probably have said something suave and flattering, but all he could keep thinking was _she smells nice_. Very nice. Nice enough that he'd like to step a little closer, or pull her in a little closer, or do both.

Eyes still downward, she abruptly stepped away from him. Effectively shattering that fantasy.

He tried to swallow the feeling of utter dejection that swept through him.

She trotted over to the stone steps leading back toward the foyer, twirling gracefully as she announced that" These ceremonies are dreadfully boring."

He despised himself, for how closely he watched her dress lift as she spun. But he's sixteen and a boy and he can't help it!

She plopped down on a cement step and he sat down beside her. Trying his best to be manly and not shiver at how darn cold the step was.

Maybe he could convince her to return with him to the lobby. It'd be warm in there, and he could buy her a soda and a candy bar.

Doubtless, he'll be much more charming when he's not stuttering from cold…or at least one can hope.

He cleared his throat, "It's freezing out here, let's go back inside. Don't want to catch a viral upper respiratory tract infection."

She smiled again, assuring that she's perfectly fine, and stared purposefully forward again at the grand fountain in front of the building.

She was watching the fountain cycle, he was watching her.

He frowned heavily. She was ignoring him. She risked a look back.

_Yes, I'm still here_. Brown eyes widened at his grave expression.

She flashed another grin, "Don't you have a final speech?"

_Yes. But it's insignificant. You look like you're going to cry…_

**Leave.** Almost as clearly as if she spoke it…but she didn't…and that gives him a feeble, fragile sense of hope.

He stood.

She smiled again, that 'tough guy' er 'girl' smile.

A strained expression that he'd seen Wilbur put on.

_Don't worry about me. I'll handle this._

Which was…infuriating as usual. Made him feel like yelling, '_I'm right here, tell me what's wrong! I want to help!'_

Sick of watching her suppressed shivers, he placed his jacket over her slim shoulders.

He wasn't sure what to expect, but the fact that she doesn't shrug off the garment was vastly encouraging.

He sat back down beside her, closer this time—his knee brushing against hers.

She looked him in the eye.

"They'll be missing you" she informed him seriously.

_Duh._ He knows that. The Committee had been ecstatic about him speaking tonight.

"You should go back. Your closing speech-"

"They'll figure it out" he snapped.

Her head tilted to the side, mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise—undoubtedly shocked by his rudeness. His breath leaves him suddenly—temporarily mesmerized by the adorable expression.

On regaining his senses, he hastily apologized. Babbling about how stressed he's been lately and a multitude of other things she probably didn't want to hear about…

When she doesn't respond, he began stammering—more excuses and apologies flooding out his mouth.

"-And then I tripped over a spare arm of C4R1, dropping a package of new beakers, and then when Professor Macter was done berating me for that. He changed his tune and chewed me out for blowing up the chemistry lab again.

Which wouldn't have happened if I'd gotten some sleep last night but I had this great new idea for optimizing mail distribution so I've been taking a few of Mom's Coffee Patches. Don't recommend it, if you're a caffeine-lightweight like me. But anyways the withdrawal was awful and I was really tired which made me fumble with the soldering gun and before I knew it Kyle's satchel was ablaze.

Probably didn't help that I missed breakfast this morning, ran into a doorframe, which kind of bent my glasses—I don't know if you can tell—misplaced my tie and ended up searching for it so long that I was actually running late tonight and-and-I-I-"

Her lips twisted into an amused smirk and she giggled. Laughed at him, was he so pathetic?

His blood ran cold.

"Thank you" she murmured softly.

His eyebrows shot up—perplexed.

She giggled again, nudging him with her elbow, "Nice to know you aren't perfect."

"Far from it" he muttered before smiling; grateful to finally glimpse a real smile quirking her lips.

Blue eyes stared into brown—boring into one another. He felt a warm thrill run through him. Something about having her eyes on him—being the object of her attention made him feel…like leaning closer…and earning his role as the sole focus of her affection.

"I'm not sure why I'm here" she confessed suddenly. Like a gunshot...effectively murdering the romantic mood he was desperately (and likely ineptly) trying to set.

He blinked, "You're here because of your theory on genetic enhancement of amphibians. Manipulation of certain key bases in DNA, such as cytosine, could result in a favorable mutation. With proper mapping and experimentation, the possibility for increasing the relapse time between synapses could well produce musical frogs."

She stared at him. Darn, did he remember something incorrectly? He'd done his best to cement every detail in his memory. He thought-

She moved closer, face peering into his intently. Her whole side…touching his…he swallowed, body tingling.

Just like that the atmosphere changed—charging with some unknown electricity that simultaneously filled him with dread and excitement.

Was this it? Was this the moment?

Was that his cue to lean in?

Carbon dioxide mingling. Their lips were less than a hand span apart. He could close that gap…

But every Action had a direct Reaction…and he dreaded an unfavorable outcome.

He needed a sign! Some positive signal to prove to him he's not just some nobody following her around like a puppy. That he actually means something to her, that he—

Her pupils dilated.

His mouth went dry. Attraction.

He's watched enough animal magnetism documentaries, and read enough date tip websites to recognize it.

His heartbeat sped up, pounding in his chest—it's a wonder she can't hear it—it seems deafening.

Her eyes locked on his, face tilted just so. This is it!

This is it! This is it!

He began leaning toward her—body on auto-pilot—relying blindly on an assortment of Hollywood romance scenes, childhood fairytales, and teenage hormones to get the job done.

When she abruptly turned away.

Mission abort!

Wait! What? It seemed! He thought! Mixed signals?

No, no, she was definitely attracted.

Everything in her body language suggested attraction

He'd hesitated! He'd contemplated too long! _Neil you fool!_

Ergh! He missed it! He'd seen the moment, and instead of just going for it, he over-thought it.

Gah!

He watched her closely. Eagerly waiting for her to glance back at him—to give him a chance to smile winningly or say something witty or romantic or-or something. He was desperate to rekindle that chemistry…but to no avail.

Time passed and all too soon a dark blue Camry drove up.

Franny's father, a large intimidating swarthy skinned man, thanked him for waiting with his little girl.

He replied (thankfully without stuttering) that it was "no problem at all Mister Framagucci, Sir."

Cornelius cringed inwardly: he was going to have a scary father-in-law…greeaaaat.

The man nodded approvingly and beckoned '_Francesca_' to "get in the car before she froze to death."

She grumbled about "Parental Units" while she returned Neil's coat.

The blond tried to catch her eye when her fingers brushed over his. But she was busy staring down again, thanking his shoes for spending time with her.

Cornelius replied, that it "was an honor he hoped to repeat in the future."

He was deemed "too kind." Hopefully that wasn't her code for _'too desperate.'_

He opened the car door, helping her inside and wished their family well.

And then…the Framaguccis sped away—his princess whisked from him to a far away land in the kingdom of Suburbia—and he was left alone.

* * *

"Weeeell? Science Guy?" Nancy nudged him, finding him on a bench outside. Her eighteen-year-old boyfriend Kyle leaned against the wall near them. He waved merrily at Neil who ignored him.

He was feeling a distinct twinge of jealousy at them. They'd come together so easily. One day over lunch in the cafeteria after three weeks of countless little conversations, they locked eyes, admitted their feelings, kissed, and then finished their sandwiches.

Some people just had it sooo disgustingly easy…he's honestly liked Franny since he was twelve. She was such a vivid person—like Wilbur. Bright shining stars highlighting the space around them, and you just can't help but be snagged into their gravitational pull.

And he was just an asteroid; a boring lump of rock that they just happened to take along for the ride.

And now-now she made his palms sweat, made him go tongue-tied, made him…crazy—certifiably insane.

Because he's started thinking about her all the time. It doesn't help that it's early spring and already everyone at his school's paired off. And he KNOWS who's supposed to be at his side. But SHE doesn't know and he's got to WIN her somehow.

He wasn't terribly romantic. He'd like to be if that's what she was hoping for. Or macho and strong if that's what she admired. Or lovably sweet or whatever she wanted.

But all he could be was himself.

The inventor dully watched all the families disperse to their cars. He let the committee down...didn't even get his kiss…

Maybe if he'd been a Hollywood Hero, he'd have "gotten the girl."

He desperately hoped Franny didn't end up marrying him just for financial security and a touch of attraction.

That filled him with terrible, depressing feelings that made him want to wring answers out of Wilbur and make sure his future was as happy as he envisioned it.

"Were they furious with me?" he asked at last. Probably the last time they'd offer him a role as guest speaker.

"At first" she replied lightly.

He sighed.

"And then I let them in on it."

"What?" he shrieked. "Tell me you're joking. PLEASE!"

Her Cheshire cat smile has his stomach in knots.

"Nancy!" he groans, humiliated. He'll never be able to look these people in the face again.

"And they're rooting for you Neil! Once they knew, they made sure that nobody else came…ya know…looking for you. See? Everybody's on your side."

Cornelius took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Thank the heavens, he's dealt with Wilbur. Or he'd NEVER be able to recover from this-this ill-conceived plan, this blatant disregard for privacy, this terrible though well-intentioned scheme.

"Sooo…you two were out here long enough. Tell us" she motioned to her boyfriend Kyle, who'd helped videotape the ceremony "We're dying to know. What do her tonsils taste like?"

"What?" Cornelius squeaked.

"Yeah, I'm thinking she's probably a strawberry but Kyle here thinks she's minty fresh"

Neil's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

Nancy continued undeterred, "So is she a bubblegum gal or a tic-tac popper?"

He flushed bright as a tomato.

"Nancy!" he gritted scandalized. "Don't…ask about that stuff…not for conversation..."

Her jaw slackened, eyes wide with disbelief. "Good Lord, YOU made it to second base?"

His eye twitched; he felt like he was going to melt from embarrassment or indignation or both.

Simultaneously, mortified and offended—sheesh! They were treating him like he was incapable…really…He had a son! In the future perhaps, but clearly, he eventually figures all this relationship stuff out.

He suddenly re-thought that and what it insinuated and flushed heavily.

When Wilbur visited him again…good lord…he wasn't going to be able to LOOK at him…Oh my…looking at him…and KNOWING…

His face heated up even more.

"N-no" he admitted.

"I didn't think you were quite that bold, but you did kiss her right?"

"I…I tried but she wasn't…"

"Paying attention, hmm, you picked a tough one Neil. You're gonna have to work to catch her eye."

No kidding. He practically lunged at her and she was none the wiser.

"Who's the lucky lady?" Kyle inquired lazily. He didn't get why Nancy was so keen about pairing off the whiz kid.

"Franny Framagucci" Nancy answered promptly.

He snickered, "Froggy Franny?"

"Don't call her that!" Neil hissed, sending him a venomous glare.

Kyle winced; as if the high-heel through his foot wasn't reprimand enough. Now he had an angry inventor to contend with.

"Be nice!" Nancy hissed "He's liked this chick for ages!"

"Right…Franny…yeah, I can see the appeal. I mean she's got a nice pair of-"

The look Cornelius sent him, dared him to finish that sentence.

"Of-of" what else came in pairs? Arms? Legs? Eyes? Ears? Uh…

"-shoes" he answered desperately, that came in pairs! It worked!

Cornelius' sharp blue eyes narrowed "Uh huh."

Sudden fears of being strapped to a metal table and dissected didn't seem like an impossible Hollywood drama anymore. Kyle would avoid the lab areas of the campus for the next three weeks—claiming that his doctor said it was for his health.

"Anyways, here's her certificate" Kyle announced cheerfully, shoving the paper into Neil's stomach.

"You can present it to her _**Personally, **_Science Guy"

He stared at it in surprise—Her name neatly printed in the center.

Nancy smiled—clearly pleased with herself, "The Committee WAS going to mail it to her. You know, standard procedure. But open learning that a CERTAIN someone was smitten, made an exception."

And suddenly the young inventor beheld the sheet in a glorious new light.

"Let's hope you have more luck in Round 2."

* * *

R & R Please! ^-^


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: _**I**_...do not own Meet the Robinsons.

AN: Allo! Thanks for your reviews! ^-^ I'm glad you enjoy my brand-o-romance! I'm really starting to have fun getting in touch with my mushy side. XD

To AnimeFreak: Yes! I plan for this one to be fairly long! And while it won't go all the way to 'Focus.' It IS in the same universe. So far ALL my MTR fics are placed along one timeline in my brain (Yes there are more on their way!) : D (And don't worry it's also on a piece of paper as well...you know...for when brains fail).

Now onwards! And I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2

* * *

Socks matching. Check.

All buttons buttoned. Check. Check. Check.

Fly zipped. Check.

Hair…eh…normal. Check.

Wallet in pocket, watch on, glasses on, shoes on. CHECK!

Alright, he wouldn't be a complete disgrace to appear in public with.

Cornelius knew he'd never achieve…fashionable…but clean and well-kempt was within his grasp.

Funny, how all those things that seemed so trivial in first-grade suddenly mattered…His love-life was on the line!

Everything was critical in the opening stages; one shirt worn inside-out could nix any chance of romance.

Ugh, he could practically hear it, "_hey genius, I see you know your way around your lab table. Too bad we can't say the same about your dresser_."

No…no Franny wouldn't be like that. More likely she wouldn't mention it, but her face would start twitching from trying not to smile.

Like when you see an adorable little puppy run straight into the wall—you make a sound of alarm until you see the pup shake it off. Then you _**say**_ "awww" but you _**think**_ '_sooo stupid.'_

Again he found himself staring at the certificate on his desk.

_Honorable Mention_

_Awarded To_

_Francesca A. Framagucci_

All printed on fine sturdy white paper (the expensive kind that didn't crease when you held it—guess the last Science Fair had some generous patrons).

Crisp and elegant with a fine silver border boxing the text.

Why the only thing wrong with it was the last name…

He felt a smug smile pull his lips—and that'd be remedied within the decade with an exchange of "I do's."

He felt himself slipping into yet another happy daydream. On an alter somewhere on a clear blue skied day…

Hmm. When DID they get married? When she turned eighteen? Twenty? Whatever age she'd make a beautiful bride.

He flushed and shook his head vigorously. Wedding fantasies were supposed to be for girls.

Besides…he still had that whole mutual "falling in love" hurdle to get over. HE might know they were meant for each other…but SHE doesn't.

* * *

Cornelius faced the oak door, butterflies in his stomach.

The committee had e-mailed him her address (not that he needed it—he'd known his future wife's address since he turned thirteen) ending the note with a hearty 'Good Luck, let us know how it goes or if you need any tips!' The little smiley face winking at the end of the message had just about done him in.

If not for the fact that his romantic interests were now common knowledge, but that he was terribly tempted to ask them for pointers.

He'd already scheduled this as best as he could. Sunday. 3pm. Most people would have already attended church and had lunch.

She should be home…and when she answered the door….just…

_Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan_.

Cornelius sucked in a deep breath, wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and rang the doorbell.

No response.

Oh well. No one home. Time to sprint!

He'd barely taken a step back when the lock unbolted.

The door creaked open revealing none other than Franny.

She stared—lovely doe eyes widening in surprise. No doubt wondering how why he was standing there.

Alright. This was his chance.

He started to grin, opened his mouth.

'_Special Delivery'_ poised on his tongue when-

SLAM!

Huh…who knew that was the sound of ultimate disappointment?

He stood there for a moment, rattled to the core.

She didn't like him…

The other night must've been some strange blend of stress and hormones.

He felt his confidence crash into the welcome mat under his feet.

The door opened again.

He looked up, one tiny spark of hope flaring to life.

"Um, hello?" a great brawny teen inquired. His red and white Pizza Planet uniform and '_Hello my name is Art; can I get you parmesan with that_?' badge gleaming in the afternoon sun.

Hope dashed.

"Um, Hi…my name is…Cornelius Robinson and I-I had something for-"

"Oh! You're that smart kid. In the papers right? Jus' sec. Mama loves this sort of stuff. MAAAMAAAAA!"

"Che cosa?"

He rattled something back at her in Italian.

There were footsteps and then two adults appeared: A tall broad man (whom Art clearly took after) and a short plump woman (who had Franny's eyes).

Cornelius recognized the man as Franny's father, who'd picked her up yesterday night.

The young inventor cleared his throat, "Hello again sir, last night-"

"You waited with my daughter."

"Y-Yes, she forgot her award."

Cornelius held up the paper carefully as though it were a document of immeasurable importance.

Which it kinda was…it was Franny's…

Her father's eyes lightened, clearly pleased by her success.

"You want to present it to her?" Mr. Framagucci inquired.

He could easily hand it to this man and speed away. Deed done. Total humiliation averted. Mission success…technically.

Cornelius surprised himself with his bravery when he gave a firm "Yes."

Mr. Framagucci turned away and called, "Francesca?"

A timer went off somewhere in the background.

"The rolls!"

Husband and wife glanced at each other than at the boy on the doorstep. Another chime went off.

"Well come in, come in," Mrs. Framagucci insisted sweeping the boy over the threshold. "Sorry that the house is such a mess. Art! Help him find your sister."

"Alright Inventor, this way" Art waved him over, while his parents rushed to the kitchen.

The large teen led him through a narrow corridor plastered with frames. There were photos everywhere of the Framagucci siblings as well as other relatives…A LOT of other relatives.

Their family was HUGE.

Dark hair, olive skin tone, and brown eyes seemed to be the staple look.

At family reunions in the future…Cornelius was going to stick out sooo much…

"Papa said you waited with Franny. A chivalrous thing to do" Art nodded approvingly.

"Eeyes, I did."

"Thanks. She thinks because she knows Karate, she's invincible. She refuses to believe herself incapable of defeating any villain who befalls her."

"Riiiight." So Art had always been melodramatic then…

Art glanced at him expectantly. Clearly, it was HIS turn to contribute to the conversation.

"Um, I-uh-met your sister at a Science Fair a couple of years ago."

"I know"

Cornelius blinked. He knew? Did that mean…that she…talked about him? And was it good—he's smart, I like him? Or bad—he's a nerd, I find him irritating?

"Oh, uh, I really liked her idea" he offered.

Art stared at him and then beckoned him close, whispering "Don't let Mama hear you say that. She's convinced Franny's CRAZY. That it's all nonsense and that if we don't talk about it, she'll stop. Do you notice that nothing's green in our house?"

Cornelius scanned the furnishing. Whoa, he was right! Everything was beige, or brown, or tan…ordinary…

"And I mean yeah she is crazy but so's Gaston, he loves explosives. I don't know about you, but I'll take frogs over cannons any day."

So Art thought he was the normal one…interesting…

Cornelius didn't quite know how to respond to all that. He'd always assumed the Framaguccis would celebrate their children's individuality.

Those quirks didn't make them crazy—it made them—it made them…unique! Yes, unique was the word!

So they didn't conform to society, so what?

He thought of Wilbur…his awesome, eccentric, future son…

Normal was overrated…and boring…and laaame.

* * *

When Art's cell went off for a 'Pizza emergency' he abandoned Neil in the hallway.

As he walked off, Neil heard him scolding "No no no, slicing it evenly is an art. Presentation is everything! Dex, if you don't feel comfortable with the cutter yet, hand it back to Sandy."

A loud knocking caught the blond's attention.

Cornelius turned to see Gaston in a pair of black pajamas glaring at a closed door. The slightly older teen sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

A deep cough rattled his thin chest, and he pounded on the door again.

Clearly he was the unfortunate victim of a nasty flu bug—so _**that's**_ why Franny's parents didn't appear at the awards ceremony.

"Give up already!" he rasped gruffly "There isn't enough make-up in the world to make you lovely. And I gotta go NOW!"

"Shut up Gaston! You only want the bathroom whenever I'm in it! Besides, don't you know who's at the front door?"

Gaston rolled his eyes and caught sight of the blonde young man.

A wicked grin spread over his pale face.

"Cornelius Robinson?" he asked innocently.

"H-how?"

He burst out obnoxiously "Corny and Franny sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G"

"GASTON!" she bellowed.

"First comes loooove-"

"Better shut up or I'm-"

"Then comes marriage-"

"-gonna pound you soo hard-"

"_**Theeen **_comes a baby in the baby carriage-"

The door burst open, "Gaston I swear I'm gonna-"

She caught sight of Cornelius; and went from ticked off to mortified in 1.8 seconds.

Gaston took that opportunity to shove her the rest of the way out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Franny was too embarrassed to speak or move or apologize and just kept staring at him.

Cornelius, blushing to the tips of his ears, tried to laugh it off, "We'll uh, ahem, we'll name him Wilbur."

* * *

Franny received the award with less enthusiasm than he'd hoped.

She appraised it critically, "I thought they usually mailed these when you were a no-show? I'm sorry they forced you to drive all the way-"

"No I don't mind" he assured her "I-I actually asked them if I-I could-"

She blinked; looking over the certificate before studying his face, and stepping closer, "Really?"

"Eeyeah," he moved in a little closer. Perfectly aware that he was in enemy territory; that there were three men living here whose primary goal would be to drive off suitors.

But the soft grateful smile upturning her lips was so worth it. And the fact that it was ALL for him…

"That's…really nice of you" she murmured, eyes brightening at his form.

"W-well, this award's an honor that you deserve" he stated, sidling right beside her—brushing one hand over the paper—letting his fingers press against hers, "and I-I guess I don't trust...the uh Postal Service as much as I should."

Standing in such close proximity that if she looked up—Just. Like. That.

"Yeah?" she murmured, head tilted. His mouth went dry, he had perfect access…just needed to bend a bit.

Stage was set. Now to say something charming and awesome and claim that first kiss!

"Yeah," he breathed "and I live pretty close-"

"Oh? And where do you live?" Mrs. Framagucci asked, appearing out of the woodwork and scaring the wits out of the two teens as they sprang apart.

Franny recovered first, "Mama! Don't pester him."

"Uh um um Oh-over on the west side by the lake" Cornelius squeaked, blood pounding in his ears. _Did she know? Did her motherly intuition sound off? Warning her that there was a rascal making a move on her daughter? _

"So far! Oh you must stay for lunch" Mrs. Framagucci insisted.

_Phew. Guess not._

"Mama I'm sure he has important things to do" Franny argued.

They both looked at him expectantly.

His stomach growled.

"He stays" her mother stated firmly.

* * *

Cornelius couldn't help smiling.

He'd been seated at the opposite end of the table—across from Mr. Framagucci which was…intimidating…to say the least.

Art sat on his father's right and frowned at the blond as well. Apparently it was perfectly fine for Neil to hand an award to his sister and to wait with her late at night. But sitting next to her for lunch was a completely different ballgame.

Cornelius was leaving the '_chivalrous gentleman_' zone and entering the '_hopeful suitor_.'

Mrs. Framagucci sat primly on her husband's left, her bracelets clinking lightly as she maneuvered her utensils.

To Neil's left was Gaston who (would usually sit on his right, but today their mother insisted he stay near her. Apparently, Art was afraid of getting sick. His perfect work attendance was in jeopardy!)

So there on Neil's right, wonderfully far from her parents, sat Franny…beautiful Franny in a light flowery top and khaki capris.

And even if Mr. Framagucci kept looking at him like he's smuggling a bomb, the fact is: he's waaay over there at the other end of the table. And you can bet Cornelius was going to capitalize on that.

Bud and Lucille had told their son that compliments were the way to go. But not so many that he seemed insincere.

So Neil gathered his nerves, crossed his fingers, prayed for good luck and went for it.

"You look very nice today" he told Franny quietly. "And I don't know if I told you, but you looked lovely last night too."

She blushed prettily and stuttered a "thank you. You too, I-I really liked your tie"

Heck yeah! Take that store clerks! See, he totally knew who he was dressing for!

The blond inventor trilled silently at the wonderful feeling filling him.

"Green's one of my _**favorite**_ colors" he replied boldly, loud enough for all to hear.

Which may or may not have been the thing to say; it definitely earned him kudos points with his lady love but it also perked the attention of her mother…

"So which high school do you go to Cornelius?" Mrs. Framagucci inquired politely—eyes watching him like a hawk.

"And so the interrogation begins" Gaston muttered, poking at his food disinterestedly.

"Oh well. I actually already graduated high school and college. But I decided I wanted a few more degrees in the Cyber Technology field. A Masters in engineering and biology and if time permits I'll major in some literature…maybe. I really…enjoy learning" Cornelius finished up, horribly aware of how lame that sounded.

Gaston hacked into his hand, "coughNERDcough."

Franny scowled and kicked her brother's shin under the table.

Both siblings glared at one another.

"Well that's…quite an achievement. You're parents must be proud" the woman smiled, but there was something…odd about it.

Cornelius grinned, shrugging off his feelings of apprehension, "They're very supportive in all of my endeavors."

"So…you must be constantly studying for all those hard classes, it's a wonder you have any free time at all. I'm surprised you were able to come visit us today."

The blonde felt his cordial smile twitch, _I __**came**__ to visit Franny…you all just happen to be here…_

"Um, yeah they do keep me busy, but I'm great at managing my time. Why, I'm also currently interning over at ."

"Oh, paid?"

"Mama!" Franny hissed.

"Paid" Cornelius replied a touch cooler than he meant to.

So _**that's**_ how Mrs. Framagucci battled: _**subtle-knife-in-back**_ style.

Etiquette made her invite him to lunch, in spite of not liking him.

She'd pinpointed their flirtation in the hallway for exactly what it was. And rather than drive him away, she used Franny as bait to lure him further in.

That way she could corner him in front of the family and grill him for information.

She was a cunning woman, Neil would give her that.

No doubt aiming to reveal him as penniless, unworthy, and not half as smart as the papers gushed him to be.

But she wasn't going to win.

Cornelius' whole future depended on standing his ground…

Too bad he had to do it…politely.

Mr. Framagucci leveled a look at his wife before meeting Neil's eye, "It's good for a young man to have a job."

"I think so" Cornelius agreed "Teaches responsibility and dedication. And when I'm finished with my degrees, I've already been promised a place on their staff."

Mr. Framagucci's eyebrows rose, clearly impressed with the young man.

Cornelius wasn't usually one to boast about himself. But if that's what it took to win the Framaguccis' approval, so be it.

His bountiful successes in science and inventing meant he had an impressive amount of pocket money and prestige. His brilliance ensured him steady work in his field.

He couldn't help frowning though—the insinuation that finance alone marked a man as Pass or Fail.

Didn't character integrity mean anything anymore?

* * *

Alfonzo Framagucci stroked his mustache worryingly. He knew this day would come. A daughter as beautiful as his had plenty of admirers. Not that she noticed. And not that he'd point it out.

Franny was always working on her little frog projects. Or school reports. Or karate. Busy making her résumé amazing…

And if she didn't date until her thirties…well that was just fine with him.

She was a strong, proud young lady with a good head on her shoulders. Boys were trouble. Boys would distract her from her studies.

Still, this…wasn't the kind of boy he expected.

He'd had nightmares of leather jackets and Harleys…

Or bright neon hair and tattoos and clothes reeking of cigarettes...

Or maybe some debonair little devil with a handsome smile and words as slick as an oil spill…

When he thought of the man who'd one day steal away his Franny, he certainly didn't think of large glasses and sweater vests.

But he quickly amended his mental inventory of threats: Nerd now topped the list.

He didn't approve of Antonia goading the boy, but it did lay all the cards on the table.

The boy was making his stake…

And darn if Alfonzo couldn't find something to criticize.

He scowled as he watched them: the way they'd keep sneaking glances at each other.

How their fingers lingered over one another's as they passed the salad bowl back and forth to various family members.

The way their chairs kept edging closer together. (Why had Antonia seated them beside one another?)

The inventor boy was smitten with his daughter—His eyes softening every time he looked on her.

And Franny…Franny was smiling…AT the boy…FOR the boy…

Alfonzo sighed heavily; he was losing his little girl…

"Papa?"

Was this the part where they told him they've had a secret relationship for the last two months?

"Papa, are you coming?"

"T-to what Fiorello?"

Franny flushed at the pet name, thanking her lucky stars that Cornelius seemed inept at Italian.

"My karate tournament Papa!"

Alfonzo released a long sigh of relief; seriously, what had he thought she was going to say? Wedding? She was fourteen.

He eyed the blond boy, how old was he?

"Papa?"

"The boys won't give me a day off"

Franny pouted, "But how will I get there?"

"Sorry Fran" Mr. Framagucci was too, he loved watching his little girl trash the boys in the ring.

"Mama. I KNOW you're off this weekend."

"You know your Auntie Marcella needs me! Renzo's on a business trip and can't go to the classes."

"Ugh, it's just another baby! She already has five, I'm sure she knows how the process works!"

"Francesca!"

"I'm sidin' with Franny on this one" Gaston snarked "If Aunt Marci can't figure out how this keeps happening by now, I don't think there's any hope for her."

Art snorted loudly into his bowl.

"Gaston! Watch your tongue! Art use your napkin!"

"Alfonzo" she glared at her husband, expecting some back up but he was too amused by his children's antics.

"It's an important part of womanhood" Mrs. Framagucci sniffed "and I think it might be a good idea for Franny to join us. All this violence can't be good for a young lady."

Franny's jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Darling" Mr. Framagucci replied calmly "Fran likes karate. It's good for young women to be able to defend themselves." Here he eyed Cornelius as though he might be a potential attacker.

The boy offered a hesitant smile that did nothing to assuage his fears.

"I promised Sensei I'd compete. I'm the only one representing our dojo! I HAVE to go. Look, _**someone**_ has to drive me!"

Antonia deliberately avoided her daughter's gaze, chewing her pasta slowly.

Gaston twirled his breadstick carelessly, "Yeah, Franny, go hold Auntie's hand. This could be "good" for you; you can get some training for your fate as a woman"

"Whoa no no! I'm a kick-butt karate girl. Won't catch me being a baby-factory!"

"Francesca," her mom scolded "motherhood is one of the greatest-"

"Pains in the butt" Franny spat.

Meanwhile Gaston whipped out his latest model, "Breadstick Cannon loading and FIRE!"

It smacked his sister in the face…and then complete chaos took hold.

"Urgh!" she tried leaping across the table, but Art held her back.

"Francesca!"

"No good bratty-"

"Bring it on Princess Priss!"

"Gaston I forbid cannons at the table!"

"They never come to my events! So what are you so surprised for?"

"Someone has to drive me!"

"Maybe Art ca-"

"-Mama I have work! I'm soo close to employee of the year, every schedule alteration could count!"

"I-I could…drive you" Cornelius volunteered quietly, gaping at the anarchy—there wasn't playful sibling rivalry underlining this fight…no…this was genuine hostility.

"Mama you never listen to m-"

"Alfonzo!"

Gaston made a face while Art yanked one of sister's pigtails.

"Stop it!"

"Boys!"

"Not in this house"

Franny splashed Gaston with a bowl of dressing.

"My tablecloth!"

"Francesca!"

Cornelius' chair scraped against the floor as he stood up, "I can drive Francesca to her karate tournament!"

Abruptly the argument paused as each combatant eyed him. Then slowly their attention refocused on the head of their household.

* * *

Mr. Framagucci watched him through narrowed eyes, "How long have you been driving?"

"Since fifteen sir. I'll be seventeen this March."

"So two years. How's your record?"

"Not one collision sir. No fender benders either."

"Tickets?" he prompted.

"None sir."

"Papa!" Franny interrupted "Leave him alone! It's Cornelius. He's the most cautious guy I know. Not a risk taker. I bet there's not a single mark on his record! I've had more detentions than he-"

"Francesca!"

Somehow that made him feel terribly uncool…Wilbur had something along those lines about detention. '_You know you've never done anything awesome enough to be there.'_

"Papa, please?" Franny pleaded "Please Papa…let me compete. I'll make you proud."

Cornelius felt himself melting and her gaze wasn't even ON him.

Alfonzo Framagucci never stood a chance against those big brown eyes.

He stood up, walking over to the boy—mistrust etched in his grave expression.

He was just a little taller than Cornelius and used it to his advantage—staring down at the young inventor suspiciously.

"Come with me"

* * *

Mr. Framagucci led him into the entry, sizing him up yet again.

"Next Saturday you will arrive at our house at 8 am sharp."

"Yes sir"

"You will return to our house by 7pm. You will call us before you arrive. You will call us before you depart the event. If ANYTHING happens you CALL us mister."

Cornelius swallowed nervously before nodding succinctly "Yes sir"

"Fran will email you the directions tonight."

"Very well."

Mr. Framagucci shook his hand HARD, gripping his fingers painfully tight.

Cornelius kept his hand firm—for once very glad for the roughness of his hands. They were manly hands—calloused and rough and strong from years of tinkering.

Something like approval flitted through the older man's eyes.

Clearly he'd passed some unknown test.

"Francesca" he called over his shoulder "say goodbye to your ragazzo."

Choruses of "Farewell Nerd-king!" rose from the dining room.

Franny hurried over, though not before scolding her brothers, "You jerks! Be nice! He's my friend!"

Cornelius visibly winced at that.

_**Friend**_…the most awful word to any prospective suitor…

Alfonzo felt a temporary twinge of sympathy—fleeting because this was HIS daughter and she deserved the best.

And if Franny didn't think Cornelius ranked the title, then he didn't.

* * *

Cornelius followed Franny out onto the porch.

She swiftly pulled the door closed behind her, eager for one moment of privacy.

The girl glanced at him a moment and ran a hand over her hair, grimacing as she pulled a piece of lettuce out.

"I-I'm sorry about…all that. My family's….crazy."

"I was glad to meet them" Cornelius smiled, taking a step forward and plucking a slice of tomato that she'd missed.

"Ugh, don't you get tired of being nice?"

To you? Never.

She stared at him.

_Whoops. Said that out loud. _

She flushed, before looking up at him shyly.

"Thanks for the certificate. And for…putting up with…them…a-and for helping me out next Saturday."

She fidgeted a moment before extending her hand.

He started to reach for the dainty fingers when she suddenly retracted them.

He blinked, caught off-guard—hand still poised in mid-air.

Wha?

Oh _**come on**_! What would a handshake hurt? After everything he just went through, he at least deserved that.

She gave him an uncertain smile, hopped from one foot to the other—as though contemplating. Laughed once and then rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him—hugging him tightly.

The world slowed down in that instant—the universe revolving around only them.

And that was just fine. In fact, time could stop for all Cornelius cared.

His hands gently rested on her back, lightly holding her to him; her sweet-smelling hair brushing against his lips.

Yes.

This was what he wanted.

If he could just have this last…

"Thank you Cornelius" was breathed against his collar bone.

Then time had to go and catch back up; in a flurry the door closed and his arms were empty again.

* * *

His drive home was quiet—opting to keep the radio off so he could reflect.

By all means it should've been a mission success.

He should be jumping up and down with joy. Not only had he completed his task with flair, but he was set to meet her again.

Almost like a date...almost...

He even had a whole week to prepare!

And yet…his skin still tingled…

In that moment, he'd glimpsed what they could have…

He pulled into the driveway and parked—mind buzzing chaotically before suddenly sharpening.

He needed to accept that no Fairy Godmother was going to wave her wand and magically set them together.

He needed to approach this…as a scientist!

His lips curved into a smile.

Phase 1 Objective: Acknowledgement and Fondness. Complete.

Commencing Phase 2: Part 1: Wooing.

* * *

R& R whoohoo! : D


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Meet the Robinsons

AN: Hey All! No! This fic won't be abandoned in the far recesses of my mind to rot! XD

I just had one of those writer trip-ups. I wrote a chapter all out. : D then realized I actually needed another chapter between last chapter and that chapter D : (Which meant I was back to square one!) Good News! Next chapter should be up pretty darn quick! XD

Thank you for your reviews! I eat them up! : D All the positive feedback is really getting me pumped up for this fic. I'm sooo glad you guys are liking this! I've really enjoyed writing these characters…and torturing Neil ^^

Heh heh heh, my sister would just die—she thinks I couldn't understand let alone write romance to save my life! XDDD

To "The-Name-Doesn't-Matter" I found the Framagucci surname when I went hunting on the internet. : D Too much spare time and persnicketiness XDDDD

(However I will admit and would appreciate it if anyone could inform me: What was the orphanage's name? I know Miss Mildred Duffy ran it, but what was IT called?)

But I digress:

Again Thank You for your encouragement—Reviewers! YOU are AWESOME! (Cuz I won't know how you feel unless you tell me! And I LOVE hearing from you!)

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

"_Neil!" Franny giggled, squirming on his lap. "Neil that tickles!"_

_He chuckled, holding her more tightly against him—ignoring her plea and continuing one of his favorite new pastimes: nuzzling his nose just beneath her ear._

_She always smelled SO good and her skin was so soft; he'd use any excuse to touch it. _

_Franny ran her hand through his hair, pulling him closer. _

_Resting his face against her neck, utterly content, he kept thinking; if they could just stay like this forever…_

_His raven-haired beauty pulled away, while he grumbled in protest._

_Laughing lightly as she turned towards him, caressing his face gently with her dainty fingertips. He sighed, relishing the contact—forever, he wanted __**forever**__ for them. _

"_Cornelius" she spoke softly, cupping his face in her hands "Cornelius, I lov-"_

**Beep Beep BEEP!**

Cornelius fell out of bed with a THUMP!

He groaned, reached up and slammed his hand on his alarm clock—shutting it up.

Stupid thing always interrupted the good part.

For a moment he just sat there, legs crossed—more disgruntled than embarrassed. He kept having this dream over and over. His initial reaction on Monday morning had been shocked mortification that his imagination could conjure such a thing. (Surely it was a terrible violation of Franny!) Now Friday, he was pouting over the fact that he never got to hear her finish that "I love you."

_**Come on**_, just because reality's being mean, why was fantasy playing hard-to-get too?

He just wasn't catching ANY breaks.

He sighed, massaging his temples; he was a brilliant inventor—capable of solving complex conundrums of the universe! Why was romance so tough?

No, no he couldn't think like that.

He had a plan! Stick to the plan!

His eyes flitted to the corkboard behind his door, plastered with tips and post-it's like:

"Smile!" and "Maintain Eye Contact" and "Good Posture," as well as some stapled pages labeled "Anecdotes" and "Romantic Ambiance Spots" (with corresponding pictures).

He probably shouldn't have posted: Master Plan at the top, but well…old habits die hard…he blames Wilbur…the whole "Mission" stuff rubbed off…

* * *

Alfonzo Framagucci spent all of Friday in a frantic tangle of nerves.

That boy would be driving Alfonzo's baby girl tomorrow…unsupervised…

Assuming Cornelius didn't get them killed on interstate and they arrived intact, there was nothing to stop him from trying to pull any…funny business…

Two whole years older than her…just a little younger than Gaston…

He felt himself frowning…usually he thought nothing of Gaston gallivanting around town with a girl in tow. And the way Gaston dated…Alfonzo never knew them long enough to learn their names.

He'd always shrugged it off as a "boys will be boys" until now.

Thinking of Franny being actively pursued and discarded after two dates…especially by a boy she clearly liked…

He set down his grocery basket harder than intended—scaring the two shoppers behind him.

His wife had called him earlier asking that he pick up some extra spaghetti noodles and bread.

He'd swiftly agreed; ANYTHING to keep him out of the house a little while longer. Franny was on Cloud 9 and while he always wanted his daughter happy, the bespectacled reason for her bout of joy had him less than enthused.

In the check-out line trying not to read the outrageous captions of numerous tabloid magazines…especially since all of them seemed to feature "who's the father?" headlines.

While setting his items on the conveyer belt, he overheard the couple in front him laughing with the check-out lady.

"-and then Cornelius fired it up and BOOM peanut butter and jelly everywhere. EVERYWHERE! Bless his little heart, he tried so hard—he knows I love a good PB & J. I think that Mother's Day will go down in my books as one of the most precious-"

"Cornelius Robinson?" Alfonzo inquired abruptly.

"You know our boy?" the man asked.

They were his parents?

He eyed them again. Mismatching clothes and a certain…goofiness…poor kid…he'd inherited it from both sides…

Really though…the man's outfit was on…backwards…weird people…

Oh yes, they were _**definitely**_ his parents.

"He spoke at my daughter's awards ceremony."

"Oh? What did she present?"

That was the question he always dreaded. He wished he could say Physics, or Marine Biology, or Socio-economics or something complex that would oooh listeners and not prompt them to ask more questions…Alas.

"….frogs" he sighed "singing frogs."

"Oh! Franny!" they both exclaimed.

"We met her at a Science Fair a few years ago. I'm Lucille" she offered her hand, which Alfonzo shook rather perplexed "My husband Bud."

"How'd'ya do?" Mr. Robinson asked shaking his hand vigorously.

Lucille clapped her hands excitedly, "Franny's still holding onto her dream then?"

Alfonzo nodded dumbly—unsure of how to receive this sort of reaction. No hint of derision or mean smile or worse: sympathy—like it was only a matter of time before they threw in the towel and sent her to the loony bin.

"Good for her!" her husband added cheerfully.

"Can you just imagine the impact she'll make on the singing world, when she succeeds! It'll completely revolutionize record companies, expanding the career option for singers of ALL backgrounds. Why not bend the borders of a ruthlessly enforced taxonomy? Surely the Mammalia Class could learn a thing or two from other singing organisms!" Lucille gushed.

When. Not if. _**When.**_

"Oh! And I think Neilly's helpin' her out tomorrow with-with-with-well he's driving her somewhere she needs to be-"

"Karate" Alfonzo put in.

"Yes!

"We offered to drive him both, but he insists that Franny will need absolute concentration and that we'll probably make a spectacle of ourselves."

No kidding.

"You know how teenagers are" Bud laughed good-naturedly.

"I think he's afraid we'll tell her about his recent exploits with Mopper 3000."

Both roared with laughter while an oblivious Alfonzo stood by.

"I-I did want to set some ground rules for their trip" he stated seriously.

"Of course" Bud agreed wiping a tear of mirth from his eye "We completely understand, though I do assure you. He's a good boy and you've nothing to fear."

"We live on the outskirts of town, you can follow us there" Lucille offered helpfully. "I'm sure Neil's probably home right now; he texted us earlier saying that his Chemistry lesson ended early."

Mr. Framagucci reasoned that since his food items were nonperishable and his wife knew how busy traffic could be. He had nothing to lose.

"Yes, thank you. This would really help put my anxieties to rest."

Mr. and Mrs. Robinson smiled encouragingly, "we completely understand."

He doubted it. Unless they had a daughter, they didn't know a thing.

* * *

Cornelius hosed down his Yaris—very fuel efficient vehicle for the era. Though Neil was sure his hovercar would trump it easily. He just needed to synthesize a better fuel.

The week had rushed by far too swiftly. It felt like it was just yesterday, he received her instructions.

Apparently, she'd found one of his tutoring e-mail accounts. He'd completely forgotten to give it to her before leaving. Luckily, he came up on Google's Search Engine or so Franny had discovered. She'd typed that he "was a hard man to get a hold of."

He'd winced reading that. Right. After numerous harassing calls of both praise and criticism, his parents had taken their number out of the phone listing.

Cornelius apologized profusely; taking extra care to message her back on his _**personal**_ email account, offer his cell phone number, and requesting her permission to "friend" her on his IM system.

She'd accepted and asked for his permission in turn.

He couldn't help grinning at her user name: **FroggyPrincess4Ever **

Tomorrow…

Tomorrow the two of them would be together…alone…unsupervised…

After being thoroughly harassed by Nancy and Kyle, he'd hesitantly informed them of his somewhat successful venture.

They'd clapped him on the back, heartily congratulating him before springing into a tsunami of unsolicited advice:

Like hands, where to place them during Dates 1-12…and how you had to earn each new place…

Or pet names…how to accept that your new name is Monkeyface and/or Sugar-Snookums…

Or…dear god…kissing…remember not too much tongue in the beginning…

Well…through it all…Cornelius learned ONE helpful fact: **You CANNOT Die From Humiliation**…no matter HOW awful and mortified you were made to feel. Yeah, he's still deciding whether that's a comforting tidbit or not…

Thrill and dread mingled in his stomach; he'd spent the past week stocking up on online dating advice.

Apparently the biggest pitfall for "smart guys" was "Not Taking Action" and "Expecting to be Right All-the-Time" and "Over-Thinking."

So far he fit in their category too well for his liking.

Yeah, considering the one-on-one romantic moments he and Franny should have already shared—he totally should've had his kiss by now…which was…frustrating…

Yeah, he liked being right…but…with all the inventions he'd had blow up in his face, he felt he could weather his share of being wrong.

Really, he can't count on one hand all the times he'd cheerfully cut the blue wire instead of the red one…yeah…ouch…but one trait he's very proud of is that his eyebrows ALWAYS grow back—a real boon in his line of work.

But what really irked him about the site was how they defined all his nice acts as "Over-thinking" that any schmuck could do it—that she wouldn't find his kindness sincere.

Like:

Buying appropriate snacks for them to share—healthy stuff for the first part, candy bars and soda for afterwards—might even take her out somewhere (you know if things were working out.)

Picking out a suitable outfit (t-shirt, jeans, sneakers) since nerds tended to stand out at athletic events—in a bad way. Yeah, a sweater vest in that arena would be a bull's eye.

Making sure his car was clean and fresh and immaculate. Come on, let's have some STANDARDS people.

So yeah, stocking his glove compartment with essentials like napkins might seem like a shot in the dark—but you only ever need a napkin when you don't have one. So he's warding that one away.

Before he could stop it an unbidden phrase floated through his mind.

_If you perceive that there are four possible ways in which something can go wrong, and circumvent these, then a fifth way, unprepared for, will promptly develop__._ _It will be impossible to fix the fifth fault, without breaking the fix on one or more of the others._

Darn Murphy and his laws!

Cornelius ran a hand through his blond spikes.

True, he may be a bit…obsessive right now, but far better to try a bit too hard than not show enough effort, right?

This was for Franny…

He wanted things perfect for her. And it was also a good time to test out his new and improved vacuum cleaner on his car's interior.

* * *

Given his first impression of the boy, Alfonzo thought the boy nerdy, bookish, and odd—better suited to classrooms and libraries than normal life.

He and Franny would have NOTHING in common. Besides, her frog fetish Alfonzo was proud to deem her NORMAL. (Unlike his middle child, who had a disturbing fascination with gunpowder—he was very afraid that one day he'd come home to find part of his son missing due to an ill-thought-out experiment.)

Cornelius struck him as the type to probably whine about weather—choosing to shun sunlight.

So he was quite surprised to see the boy outdoors drying off a car.

Fitted in a loose tang top and cut off shorts sans glasses—head bobbing in beat with the boom-box blaring in the driveway.

Looking and acting like a teenage boy should…for some reason knowing that those glasses could come off and he could take up manly chores was strangely comforting.

Call him old-fashioned but it was heartening to see a young man taking pride in his car.

To his own chagrin, the kid's place in his esteem kept rising. Almost seventeen years old, extensive schooling, internships, career-oriented, successful…and knew how to upkeep his vehicle.

_Careful Al, you might start to like this kid… _

"Hey Neil!" Bud called arms full of groceries.

The blond looked over "Mom! Dad!" He tossed the towel down and walked over to the open car trunk.

"You can finish up, don't want her to streak" Mr. Robinson stated.

"Nah its fine, I'm done. I'm gonna wash the windows and interior next. I could use a break" his son replied easily, taking the 24-pack of soda from his mother with a "Hey Mom let me give you a hand, that's heavy."

He turned, ready to make the trek up to the house when-

"Whoa!" the young inventor stumbled back a step "Er um Hello Mr. Framagucci sir," He barely held onto the box.

"Hello Cornelius" the dark-haired man greeted.

"I-um-nice to see you sir. I'll just, uh, get this inside, you can…come in. Mom and Dad love guests. But you..er…probably figured that out since…they probably…invited you…this way to the door!"

* * *

"Well make yourself right at home, would you like a drink?" Mrs. Robinson asked.

"Oh that isn't necessary."

"Root beer, Dr. Pepper, Coke, lemonade-"

"Lemonade would be great" he relented.

"Lemonade it is!" Lucille chirped, scurrying away.

He wandered a bit into the hallway where a cluster of photos had caught his eye on the way in.

Tons of science events and awards ceremonies along with a few vacations-the three of them in ski gear, in scuba gear, in…he blinked…hang gliding?

Robinsons…

He supposed that in a family so odd, bizarre WAS normal. Oddly enough he found himself smirking at that—it was almost refreshing somehow…

Acknowledging that, the only aspect that still struck him as peculiar was how the photos seemed to range from preteens till now.

Where were the embarrassing Dear-God-Mom-Don't-Let-People-See-That-One pictures? Those precious keepsakes (coughcollateralcough) were what made parenthood so great.

"I know what you're thinking" Lucille murmured, coming up behind him "We don't have any baby pictures of him."

He blanched a bit guiltily as she handed him a glass.

"Miss Duffy says she's going to look through her albums for us and get us some earlier photos."

Alfonzo blinked "Miss Duffy, caretaker of that little orphanage. 7th Stride Street, just off Elm?"

She nodded, "Lovely woman. I'm glad Neil had her to care for him before we found each other."

He and the boys were paying a visit to her tomorrow. Several beams in the house needed reinforcement. And Earl was going to check the heat and plumbing.

Cornelius. Adopted?

"I'd have _**never**_ known" he murmured aloud.

Lucille beamed.

* * *

Alfonzo sipped his lemonade and bit into a chocolate chip cookie (fresh from the oven Lucille insisted he have one).

He sat at their little kitchen table, watching the family bustle around putting away groceries—dodging one another, bending under arms and laughing as they jostled to and fro.

No loud brawls. No heated conversations with forced cordial tones. No shoulder clips or glares or raspberries.

Just friendly warmth that Alfonzo couldn't help envying a bit…his house was a war zone of hormones and teen attitude.

So different….

And to think the boy had been an orphan…

Someone had given him up…this boy…newspapers were hailing him as a genius…a teen-prodigy.

And even if he wasn't…he was still two people's son…

Alfonzo couldn't understand it for the life of him.

Sure his children were a handful—loud and underfoot and obnoxious and grating and-and precious…so precious that the thought of giving any one of them away—his chest constricted; they were his little ones for now and forever.

Still, in Cornelius' case, Alfonzo could at least see that his "new" parents truly loved him. He deserved that. Every child deserved that.

"Neilly? Sweetie, Mr. Framagucci wanted to talk to you about your trip tomorrow."

The blond swallowed nervously, "Right."

* * *

Standing beside Mr. Framagucci's Camry, Cornelius briefly feared it was a preemptive move: if he answered wrong…he'd be run over…threat to daughter eliminated.

"Francesca is my littlest angel" the man stated gruffly.

"Yes sir."

"She means the world to me."

_Well,_ Cornelius thought bleakly, _at least they had ONE thing in common._

"I want you to drive safely. I want you to treat her like the upstanding young lady she is. And if anything happens—any kind of trouble, you'll need to be the man. You will take charge and see to it that she is safe."

"I would _**never**_ let anything happen to Franny." Stated so solemnly that it caught Alfonzo off-guard—As though just suggesting it were sacrilegious.

"Then we understand one another."

"Yes, sir."

He closed his door and turned the ignition.

Well, at least the kid was taking his concerns seriously, though if Cornelius laid one hand on her during the trip there'd still be hell to pay.

Just because he's gained a newfound respect for the boy, doesn't mean he trusts him a bit where hormones are involved…Alfonzo was a teenager once…he _**knows**_ how they think.

* * *

Franny sighed happily; Cornelius L. Robinson was taking her to a karate tournament tomorrow. Why, it was almost like a date! Almost…

The week waltzed by like a dream, schooldays blurring by in a flash, and now it was Friday night!

She hummed 'Summertime' while lathering shampoo into her hair.

Taking a hot shower the night before, so she could be up bright and early tomorrow. Her hair was always a monstrosity in the morning, so she'd need the extra time to tame it.

Didn't want to look like a TOTAL dork. Stupid cowlick…

She stretched, feeling tendons loosen and pop—she'd been training really hard for this one.

Maybe she'd win a trophy…maybe two! Maybe…maybe Cornelius would be so impressed with her abilities that-that he'd…hmm…well…she wasn't exactly sure what she wanted him to do…but it'd be nice to have _**him**_ admire _**her**_ for a change.

She probably seemed so ordinary to him.

This would be her chance to shine for him. Show him that she was someone worth taking an interest in.

She was Francesca A. Framagucci after all and she was going to do great things!

Yes!

Franny found herself subconsciously tracing hearts in the steamed glass of her shower door.

She flushed and immediately wiped them away with her wet palm.

Ridiculous…acting this giddy over…what?

He'd agreed to chauffeur her—that wasn't a proclamation of love.

More likely Cornelius was simply being the chivalrous guy he was, only wanted to end their family brawl.

She shouldn't be getting so worked up.

He liked that blonde chick Nina? Nanette? Nancy? Whatever—that super-smart-girl speaker.

And you _**know**_ what that could mean…

She slowly sat down, letting the water wash over her as her heart ached.

If he had a preference for blondes…Franny didn't stand a chance…

* * *

Read & Review Pleeeeaaaase! : D


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Meet the Robinsons

AN: Yup…I totally lied didn't I? *dodges tomatoes* I know, I know it's been ages. I'd had most of this chapter planned and written but then the sections weren't flowing smoothly. Glad to say that they are now. : D

My life got kinda hectic: sister got married, new brother-in-law got injured on the job, family keeps catching colds and givin' em to me (gee thankssss), and various other snags along the way.

And not to mention Mount. Writer's Block, which decided to park itself right on top of my muse crushing her instantly (…she got better).

Other Notes: (I know I'm chatty today)

Lucky OCB and others who've expressed concern: My plea is Guilty. I DO alternate 'tween present and past tense. A lot of times I'm writing while I'm '_in the moment'_ which leads to countless mishaps: misspellings, grammar travesties, and other peculiarities. As I'm sure any of you guys could attest with numerous examples from my own pieces.

Though…my personal favorite is when that lovely auto-correct feature kicks in and toooootaaaallly changes the word I intended into something else…completely changing the flavor. Hee, I've had some fun ones. (And you only ever find those AFTER you've uploaded)

All I can say is, yeah…I usually I catch the big fish, but the little ones slip through.

Thank you for bringing it to my attention, I'll try to be more vigilant when I'm revising.

(I can't promise flawlessness, but I'll do what I can…or maybe finally look into getting a Beta Reader…and letting them stress over it…tee hee.)

Chapter 4

* * *

Cornelius wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he took a deep breath. Here he was. He was really going to do it. It was Saturday; he was taking Franny to her tournament. It was almost…kinda like a date…almost.

Cornelius blinked—dumbfounded as said girl walked past him towards his car.

It was amazing; Franny really could make any outfit beautiful.

Standing there dressed in her karate gee, she seemed like a pigtailed-martial arts-goddess.

If anyone was gonna kick his butt, he'd want it to be her.

Er…not that he'd…wait..ugh…man she made an idiot out of him sometimes. Ugh…Geniuses and hormones and smart-beautiful-future-brides just didn't mix very well…

As he stood there openly admiring her. All her father's thinly veiled warnings began fading away…

Oh the possibilities today could bring…

"-nelius?"

"Mmhmmm?" the blond was already daydreaming of soft smiles and hand-holding and long dark eyelashes fluttering demurely at him.

"Could you…unlock the car please?"

He snapped to attention, "OH, yes…yes I can."

He fumbled with his keys managing to open the car door on his third attempt.

She tossed her sportsbag on the floorboard and climbed inside.

Once her seatbelt was buckled, he closed her door and went around to the driver's side (horribly aware that her brother Gaston was watching him like a hawk—no doubt eager to report the slightest wrongdoing to Mr. Framagucci).

In fact, Cornelius didn't breathe easy until they were well onto the interstate; Radio music filling what would've been horribly awkward silence.

He'd already assured Fran four times that they could change the station to whatever she wanted.

She'd just nod; her left hand on the armrest between them, fingers clenching then relaxing then clenching again.

It took him a while to realize that she wasn't (thankfully) embarrassed to be chauffeured by him.

She was nervous—her frame taut with tension and her expression seemed almost…fearful.

He wanted to ease her…only…he wasn't very good with words…yeah he could write speeches and essays but that was different. You could plan and revise and structure lines on a page.

Conversing…now that was a whole different ballpark—it was a live flowing thing that you couldn't correct once it escaped you.

His difficulties in communication only worsened with her presence—being tongue-tied seemed to be his chronic condition whenever Franny Framagucci was within ten yards.

She was his kryptonite…and yet…he couldn't seem to get enough…

So speaking was kinda out of the question, any chance of an inspirational spiel was beyond his capacities at the moment (heck, saying her name and not squeaking was a big enough challenge).

And he couldn't really share any similar experiences (He'd spent elementary school hiding under tables and in supply closets to avoid physical confrontations with bullies).

He probably should've just left her to her own devices (before Science exhibitions he often preferred waiting alone in a room with a water bottle and a writing pad).

She may very well be the same; using the silence to meditate.

Yes…he should leave her alone…except that it was Franny…and he seemed to have an unceasing urge to nose his way into her business at the slightest opportunity.

He clenched the steering wheel, stealing a glance at her.

No…no, he should leave her alone…yeah…yeah that's what he should do…

It seemed like the right thing to do…

Certainly the smart thing to do…

The _**SAFE**_ thing to do…

So he's not quite sure what possessed him.

Maybe it was the sight of her in distress.

Or how small and alone her perfect digits seemed.

Or maybe it was some inner, selfish craving to experience the sensation:

He boldly laid his hand over hers.

"You'll do great" he told her, risking a quick glance off the road to gaze at her lovely brown eyes.

She gave a hesitant smile; her fingers curling his closer.

He grinned facing the road again and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

And though it would end too soon (when he needed to turn the steering wheel), feeling their fingers intertwined gave him hope.

* * *

Cornelius sat as far forward as possible on the bleacher. Eyes keen on the sparring match. Despite spending over eight hours here in the auditorium, he was far from bored.

A natural born scientist, he leapt at the chance of gaining logic.

Being…less than athletic, he knew precious little about Marshall Arts besides Kung Fu movies and a crash-course of facts from the desperate round of "Google-ing" he did last night.

Combined with the observations he'd made today, he concluded that tournaments like these typically had two divisions: Part 1 Forms, Part 2 Sparring.

The martial artists were divided into subcategories of belt rank, gender, and age.

Fourteen rings, three judges per ring (when two judges disagreed, the third judge would make the call).

Rounds started lowest belt to highest and youngest age to oldest.

He watched waves of white, yellow, orange, and purple belts pass through the rings. But then the masses abruptly tapered off.

Green belts and up were rarer breeds and Cornelius instantly noted the correlation: the higher the belt the fewer the people.

Natural Selection at work; where talent and grit trumped punctuality and attendance.

Just the way the world worked…he reasoned as he watched parents and friends console miserable combatants (ones who were leaving with nothing more than an obligatory competition ribbon: the words imprinted on them just salt in the wound).

Cornelius glanced at the red ribbon beside him.

"**All Who Try Will Succeed**," He scoffed adding a '_Sometimes… if they're actually any good.'_

Though, he supposed it was easy for him to think that.

Beside him sat a _1__st__ Place Forms Division_ trophy.

Franny had worked her magic. She was so graceful; arms and legs moving in clean lines, precise angles. Almost like an aggressive dance of sharp actions contrasted with elegant fluidity.

No one compared.

But this part…Part 2…this part was hard, sitting here watching her take a hit. Not to say she didn't pack a punch, but the other girls were so much bigger.

He flexed his hands in agitation. These hands which so many felt held the "Future" in their grasp; that were supposedly capable of amazing, incredible scientific phenomena that would undoubtedly bring hope and prosperity to all…felt utterly useless right now.

He wanted…he wanted to…protect her.

She'd no doubt be furious at that, probably mistake it for some form of chauvinism.

When it wasn't that at all; he knew she was strong, smart, and competent…But somehow…seeing her standing alone…facing an obstacle without him…

The judges had the two girls bow and dismissed them to the side, before gesturing for the final two contestants to rise.

Franny promptly went to the sidelines, shaking her opponents hand as they both sat down cross-legged.

She then turned to spot him in the crowd and smiled, or tried to—her mouthpiece (too large for her small mouth) distorted the expression.

He grinned and waved—hoping he looked unshakably confident.

All he could do right now was offer support—it just had to be enough.

* * *

"Third place" Franny grumbled, turning the squat little trophy over in her hands.

"You were amazing" Cornelius assured as he carried her sports bag.

"You're just being nice" Franny replied, though she beamed all the same.

Cornelius smiled; everything was going swimmingly. Now they could go back to his car and grab the ice chest for an "impromptu" picnic…that he'd been planning for the last three days.

He'd borrowed an in-depth encyclopedia on amphibians from his university's library.

Yeah, it was actually a Reference Book and not supposed to leave the building, but he and the Librarian were tight.

He and Franny could discuss her amphibious ambitions over their late afternoon lunch.

Now he'd staked the place out a few days back and there was a great spot under an oak right by-

"Well, well, well. If it ain't Froggy Franny?" scoffed a strapping teen, leaning against the wall by the exit.

A chorus of exaggerated "ribbits" sounded from his groupies—miscreants in frayed gee pants and ripped up tank tops.

Clearly as the largest and strongest, the boy who spoke was their ringleader.

Neil's eyes narrowed.

**Jocks**: a natural predator of nerds.

Usually they could be outsmarted or easily avoided; but that's if a nerd knew to anticipate them.

Jocks were a dangerous breed; more brawn than brains…but brains weren't much use when they were splattered on the ground.

Hence, every nerd's common instinct was to steer clear of them at all costs...

He started to reach for Franny's hand, to lead her to an alternate escape route.

But she crossed her arms, stubbornly standing her ground; not impressed at the least by his great stature and muscular frame.

Other girls might've swooned a bit at the boy's short cropped brown hair, sun-burnt complexion, and dimpled smile.

But Franny Framagucci wasn't like other girls; a fact Neil inwardly celebrated.

She wasn't intimidated or flattered by heaps of male attention… (For better or worse)…

Or maybe she also found his large upturned nose reminiscent of wild hogs…

"Josh" she growled, lips curling in distaste.

"Franz" he grinned, reaching over and tugging on a pigtail.

She swatted him away, "Stop it!"

Cornelius watched the exchange with concern, catching Franny's eye.

"Josh Kerwitz, Class A _**Jerkwad**_." She informed Cornelius "He moved here when I was still an orange belt. He thinks he's God's gift to the world and that we're all supposed to worship him."

"Well we've all got our purpose in life" Josh smiled as he strutted forward, meaty fists resting on his hips—clearly feeling he was some sort of Adonis. "You should be pleased you can worship me every Saturday. Not every girl gets that chance."

"Excuse me while I throw up on your altar" Franny glared.

"Sheesh, on a warpath Franny. Guess you're right though-"

"-always right" Franny muttered.

"-We're not third-graders anymore…" he smiled, eyes darkening with something that set Neil's teeth on edge.

Franny rolled her eyes, "And yet amazingly, you're dumber now then you were then. School should give you a refund."

"So harsh," the boy muttered, raking a hand through his short hair, "I mean really, what's the deal Franz? Are you like _**always**_ PMS-ing?"

The other boys whooped and jeered; laughing harder at the girl's scandalized expression.

Franny flushed deeply, too shocked to snap back; the person beside her had no such problem.

"Don't talk to Franny like that!" Cornelius hissed; feeling his blood pounding in his ears.

"Oooooh," Josh chuckled as he swaggered forward "looks like Franny's got herself a little boyfriend. Careful boys, he looks pretty tough."

He brushed by Cornelius, knocking him hard in the shoulder.

The blond grimaced but refrained from rubbing the sore area—that's what the jerk wanted.

"So what exactly you two got goin' on, huh? Huh, Dweeb?"

Cornelius glared while the bully sized him up.

"Hello, earth to nerd, I'm speaking English over here. You comprendez? I asked you a question. Are you like, heh, her tutor?"

"Beat it Josh or I'll tell the senseis what-"

"I'm her boyfriend" Cornelius shot back coldly and confidently enough that the other boy got defensive.

"No you aren't" he argued, backpedaling "Franz doesn't have a boyfriend. Her dad won't let her, and she certainly wouldn't go for-"

"You heard her yourself, she doesn't go for Neanderthals. Nerds do everything better—even dating."

Meanwhile, Franny went slackjawed and bright red—she felt simultaneously embarrassed and…euphoric…a giddy 'I'm-soaring-through-the sky' happiness that threatened to burst from her chest combined with an 'Oh-my-god-my-love-life-is-being-publically-discussed.'

Josh locked eyes with Franny and he must've saw something, because he suddenly reached out and grabbed her, dragging her over to him.

"Josh what're you do-"

"So you finally learned how to appreciate a good time, huh Franny?" there was something strangely pained in his voice. "Really though, is _**he**_ the _**best**_ you can do?" he breathed into her ear.

Using his stature to loom over her, he stared down at her, his face incredulous and disgusted.

"And here I thought you were always a prude. But you're not. Well, I can show you a good time. A way better time than _**he**_ could ever give you, so let's ditch the nerd."

Cornelius watched with mounting horror and disgust. What a total psycho!

He could NOT let this happen.

Maybe every nerd envisioned himself as a hero…

Maybe it was the idea of ANY guy trying to make a move on his future wife…

Maybe it was because he'd spent the last several hours repeatedly watching jabs, reverse punches, and illegal uppercuts and elbows…and it awakened some primal aggressive side he didn't know existed…

Maybe it was because of the way her eyes were beseeching him for help—lips silently mouthing his name…

Or maybe he was just plain crazy…

Regardless, without further thought of logic or consequences or black belts and weight differences….

Cornelius cocked back his fist and struck HARD.

* * *

Gaston Framagucci let out a deep sigh as he picked up the telephone, "…hello you've reached Harold's Hot Dogs on a Stick. We _**are**_ available for parties and other celebrations. My name's Gaston and I…" he sighed again "am _**eager**_ to help you today"

"Gaston! Gaston I-"

"Whoa, whoa whoa Franny?" he looked around making sure none of his co-workers were listening. If he got one more strike against him…he'd lose this job…crappy as it was. "You know you're not supposed to call me here. I'm working and-"

There was a sob on the other end.

"Fran! What's wrong?"

There was more sniffling. Not good.

His little sister was tough; he and Art had worked hard to ensure that with a lifetime of roughhousing and noogies.

The tournament, he thought suddenly, did she break a bone?

"C-c-cornelius-"

Brown eyes narrowed, if that blond dork laid a hand on his sister…it was gonna be _Mortal Combat_ when he got a hold of him.

FINISH HIM! Echoed in his brain…should probably stop spending his work breaks in the next-door arcade….

"He what? WHAT?"

"-and now he's hurt and it's my fault and I-I-I think he hates me now"

Gaston was at a loss. Being sick last weekend, he really can't afford to miss another shift.

"Did you call Mom or Dad?"

"No…you know they don't like it when I…interrupt stuff..."

Yeah, because this wasn't interrupting him…

"It's just…you _**always**_ know what to do"

He wanted to be angry; by all means he should be! Franny always came crying to him whenever things got tough.

One minute she'd be grousing to anyone who'd listen that he was an absolute troll. The next she'd be begging him for help. Seriously, the gall…

Ugh…women…

And yet…he couldn't help feeling smug…she counted on _**him**_ as the one she could trust.

Not Art…who their parents constantly hailed as their perfect offspring.

Not their parents who insisted on being "in the know" 24-7. And not in that '_we're concerned parents who care about your welfare_' sense but that '_you come home this instant and finish mowing this lawn_' way.

Personally, Gaston often felt like they should add "part-time jailers" to their résumés.

Sure he and Fran argued all the time, but he was the one you could call on when it mattered.

"I-I just…I really messed this up Gaston. I-I-I-"

"I'm on my way" He assured her. "Just hold tight, I'll get there."

He hung up, whipped his apron off, and grabbed his jacket by the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" His boss, Mr. Tortini, scowled.

"Little Sis Emergen-"

"No! No this is the last straw Gaston Framagucci! If you leave now Mister, you can kiss this job goodbye. I don't care if your father and I have been friends since childhood. I can't keep an employee so unreliable."

Gaston looked back towards the door. SO close.

"You hear me Boy? I did this as a huge favor to your Papa. No one else would take you with YOUR track record."

Unfortunately for Mr. Tortini those were the wrong words to say.

Gaston slowly turned to face his boss.

Mr. Tortini frowned. The teen didn't look too remorseful at all. Well he'd wipe that smug look off the boy's face-have him scrape the grills and clean the toilets. Prideful brat, he'd teach him some humility.

"Good. Now get your apron back on, you know we get an afternoon rush" he instructed; waiting for that sullen look of teenaged resignation.

But the boy continued smirking.

"I quit."

* * *

Franny stared at the sky blankly, not quite believing this turn of events—that was the boy who'd pulled her braids in elementary school. Who waved dead, half-dissected frogs in front of her face while singing "Figaro" last year in biology class.

She should've kicked his butt! For all that stuff, let alone creeping her out, and being mean to Cornelius…but…

She'd seen something…scary in his eyes and suddenly all her escape maneuvers and karate moves momentarily winked out of existence.

Maybe it was that horrible revelation…He liked her…

Josh Kerwitz liked her. Her stomach flopped unpleasantly.

He did all those…_**awful**_….deeds because he liked her?

What sort of terrible person did horrible things to someone they liked?

Monster…

She shook her head; the adults were reaming Josh's posse for information, because he wasn't saying a word…for the sake of his reputation, if nothing else…

No, he wasn't afraid of fighting going down on his records…

He just wouldn't be able to live it down…having a tooth knocked out…by a nerd…

Hesitantly she walked over to where Neil was sitting against a tree. He was mopping his nose with a wad of toilet paper from the men's room.

She wrung a wet rag fretfully between her hands…if he never forgave her for this, she'd understand.

"Well…at least it's not broken" Franny tried brightly. Earlier one of the tournament's medics had cheerfully informed them of that.

He glared at her, not comforted in the slightest—he had a presentation in Physics Monday morning and now he was probably going to be sporting two black eyes.

"Oh Cornelius," she murmured, sinking to her knees beside him.

* * *

He stubbornly faced the other direction, hoping she'd take the hint and leave him be…so he could compose himself. He felt like such a fool. What on earth made him think he could take that guy?

Cool hands guided him backwards.

"Fran?" he squeaked.

She laid his head across her lap, "Shh. S'okay," she crooned, tilting his head back. She placed a wet rag gently against his nose—though the action still made him wince.

"Poor Baby" she sighed.

He felt himself bristle, yes pathetic.

Her hands through his hair, fingernails gently gliding across his scalp…oh yeah…

Suddenly his throbbing nose seemed worth the cost.

He lazily glanced up, admiring her profile. She was staring ahead, oblivious to what she was doing to him.

She absent-mindedly continued her ministrations, unaware that his ears were particularly sensitive—and every time her fingers brushed them it sent pleasant shivers down his spine.

Just a reflex mothering instinct…

That was…disappointing…Still…he'd take what he could get.

* * *

Franny bit her lips to keep from grinning (which was totally inappropriate considering the chain-of-events).

Still, it was nice…very nice…alright it was pretty friggin' awesome. Here her crush was in her lap, and she was getting to play with his hair…which had fascinated her from Day One.

And she thought 1st Place in Forms would be the highlight of her day.

She was amazed to find his gravity-defying hair to be quite soft. She'd always suspected that he'd gel it to do this. Nope.

Au Naturale.

"Your hair" she giggled, pulling a lock to the side and watching it spring back up.

He frowned, "I know, it's awful."

She blinked, running her hand through it again "…no it's not"

"Fran" he muttered, staring her straight in the eye "I can't do anything with it. It sticks up. ALWAYS."

He sounded so down about…

"Hmm" she removed her hands, oblivious to his look of loss. "Well, Cornelius I can see that I'm going to have to educate you."

She hesitated for a moment—countless memories and ribbing from her childhood flashing through her mind.

Still, if it could lighten his mood…

She removed the plaits from her hair, knowing from experience that her cowlick had sprung right up.

"Consider yourself defeated. THIS is a _**reeeal**_ hair-don't."

He looked up at her, lips twitching into a handsome smile.

"_**See?**_ I look ridicul-"

"I like it"

"Huh?"

"I like it. It's" he reached a hand up and twirled his fingers in the curl "cute on you."

She felt her face heat up and her heart race.

You know what? She was gonna go for it. This was the 21st Century. Girls could make the first move.

Heck yeah!

She started to lower over him.

Except…she's never kissed a guy before…well yeah relatives on the cheek and stuff…but…

Well it couldn't be _**that**_ hard!

Yeah!

Yeah….

Yup…any day now she'd find the courage…

* * *

Cornelius blinked and frowned, fighting the urge to fidget.

She'd paused in her descent.

Was she having second thoughts?

His eyebrow twitched, as his frustration mounted.

Kiss me already!

He had no qualms about her initiating their first kiss, if she'd just…you know…DO IT!

But he could literally FEEL time ticking away.

A few more beats passed and his resolve strengthened; Alright. She needed some help. No problem. He reached up, letting his palm rest gently against her nape and guided her down to him.

Here it was.

The moment he'd been gagging for since he turned fourteen and his hormone switch had been activated.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Her breath fanned against his lips, this was it!

'_Happily Ever After here we come!'_

Yessss….

3…2…1…Lift Of-

"Hey Franny! I came as fast as I-"

"Eep!"

Neil's head hit the ground as she whipped out from under him to meet her brother.

Great. Now he could add concussion to his list of ailments.

He swore loudly—earning stupefied looks from the Framagucci siblings; as though they thought nerds were incapable of such a feat. Well, that was a common misconception. Larger vocabularies only meant more bad words to choose from.

He stammered a half-hearted apology all the while cursing his luck

**Phase 2: Mission Thwarted.**

**Results Inconclusive**

* * *

Read and Review please! : DDDD

Poor poor Cornelius


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Meet the Robinsons. Alas...

AN: Hey everybody! I'm still alive, yaaay. And it IS a feat, cuz my finals were CRAZYYYY! I've only just recovered. And now fiiiinalllyyy have the time to update! Sorry for any misspellings, I wanted to get this one out!

Hopefully you guys are still interested! Here's the next chapter! Enjoy! : D

CHAPTER 5

* * *

Cornelius sighed from the backseat…of his own car. Gaston had insisted on driving them all back.

And with Neil's eyes swelling shut at a rapid rate, he couldn't really argue; though he cringed every time Gaston made a sharp corner.

Honestly what had he been thinking? Rushing into a fight … Franny could've probably dropkicked that guy no problem.

Their almost-date was ruined. He laid his head down on the icebox next to him.

Still, he glanced at Franny sitting in the passenger seat. With her window rolled down, the breeze blowing her loose hair every which way… so pretty …

Noticing him she turned, eyebrows knitting together in concern, "Cornelius? Are you sure we shouldn't take you to a doct-"

"I'm sure" he told her flatly. Yeah, it sucked that he took a wholloping, but come on! He wasn't going to be a sissy about it.

"You know … you … for someone with _**no**_ experience, you held your own."

Gaston nodded in agreement, "From what Franny told me, you fought the good fight, soldier."

"Thanks" Neil replied dryly.

"I mean it" Franny murmured as she stared at something in her hand. "Really, quite a trophy you got, don't you think?"

Cornelius' eyebrows shot up in confusion. What on earth was she going on about? No doubt about it, she was definitely wearing a 'cat-ate-the-canary' smile.

She pulled the seatbelt under her arm and twisted awkwardly around in the passenger seat.

Cornelius frowned; he could **feel** the nag rising up in his throat: _Franny, sit forward, it's dangerous having your back towards traffic! What if we're in a collision?_

She'd probably glare at him the same way Wilbur did whenever he scolded him about such things. He idly wandered if she'd snap the same way too.

Wilbur usually sneered: "_Can it bubble boy! I passed kindergarten, I can use scissors without your supervision!"_

Against his will, he took a deep breath. His mouth opened to voice the scolding. Darn, his automatic safety lectures! He just couldn't help it! Especially, with people he cared about….when she opened her hand for his inspection.

He blinked, "Is that Josh's tooth?"

"Yes."

"You… you know…they can't reattach that if it's…here."

She gave a wicked smile, "Make a wish."

And with that she tossed it out her open window and onto the highway.

* * *

They ended up dropping Franny off first. And by dropping off, it was more like chucking her out.

Gaston had pulled up by the curb of their neighborhood, announcing that it was her stop. He didn't even park and rolled up the window while Franny told Cornelius "I'm sorry" and "thank you" and "goodbye."

Cornelius felt his spirits plummet: any chance of a "My Hero" kiss was officially gone.

Gaston seemed to know it too, relaxing into the driver's seat for the first time that afternoon—a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The blond inventor felt his temper ignite at that. It was one thing to thwart him out of brotherly duty; but getting amusement out of it?

Cornelius grit his teeth together. They'd been sooooo close. If he closed his eyes he could still feel her breath on his lips. One minute … he thought bitterly. Couldn't you have come one minute later?

It was a godsend when Gaston pulled into the Robinson's driveway, shifted into park and removed the key from the ignition. The radio filled what would've been awkward silence. On the ride over, both boys had remained silent except for the sharing of directions.

Gaston took a deep breath and then looked into the rear view mirror, "Thanks…for you know…watching out for her…I mean especially since … I mean…you're not exactly-"

"Tch. Like I'd just stand aside," Neil wrenched open the door and climbed out.

Honestly, it was infuriating; as if being on the intellectual side of the spectrum, made him a defective male specimen incapable of offering any kind of defense. His Y chromosome was perfectly intact thank you very much! And with it, he had just as much brute "man-strength" as the next guy.

He just _**preferred**_ resolving things with his smarts versus his strength.

He stretched gingerly. Franny dropping him so suddenly had given him some whiplash.

"Hey" Gaston tried again as he shut the driver's side door. "I-"

"So, should I call a cab for you…or well … as I'm really having trouble seeing, do _**you**_ want to call a cab for you? There's a phone-"

"Nah, I…I need the walk" Gaston replied, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Alright then."

Both young men faced each other. Cornelius couldn't quite tell if it was a face-off or a stalemate and then there was a loud triple honk.

"Art?" Gaston asked incredulous, "how did you-"

"Yeah well, Franny called me-" the eldest Framagucci barked from the truck.

"And? You're shift doesn't end till nine-"

"Well, Jodie could use the hours and we gotta be somewhere" he told him meaningfully.

Gaston raised an eyebrow, "Art?"

Art reached over and opened the door, "Come _**on**_."

Gaston chuckled, a sinister smirk stretching his mouth, as he hopped in and rolled down the window.

"Later Robinson!" both of them chorused.

Totally caught off guard by the suddenness, Cornelius just stared as they sped off. What were they up to? What about Franny? She was home all alone! He didn't have long to dwell on it though—his nose and eye throbbed.

Right. Next Mission: Ice.

**_Then_ **regroup for Phase 2.

* * *

Franny Framagucci sighed, staring gloomily at her tank of frogs. Usually, watching them was enough to shake her out of any kind of funk. But lately … nothing had helped her this week.

Her gaze swiveled to the magazine balanced on her bedside table: _Science Today-Modern Marvels. _It was an old issue from February.

She'd justified keeping it, because there was an article about tree frogs (which she'd always thought were adorable—shame they're poisonous).

And also because…well…

She flipped it open to a well-worn spot: Local Inventor—Teen Genius.

He'd made a revolutionary design for a hover car.

She traced a finger around the outline of his schematics, lightly humming "The Jetsons" theme song.

According to him, he felt he was well on his way to manufacturing one within the next ten years.

She tried to imagine a world of flying cars: rolling down your window to a blur of colors and clouds.

She giggled as she thought of having to honk at a flock of geese and remarking to her passenger '_Oh traffic's always bad this time of year, migrating season.'_

She smoothed her hand over the page, sighing happily as her insides trilled with delight.

There he was grinning triumphantly at the camera. His blue eyes as bright and vivid as the first place ribbon he was holding.

Even though she knew the page by heart, her eyes wandered over the caption: …Currently a student at the _Tomorrow Times University of Science and Engineering_…

No doubt he was earning degrees in engineering, physics, mechanics, and the like.

And here she was still in stupid middle school—again she cursed her luck. She wouldn't be a high-schooler till this September.

Which meant that college student Cornelius Robinson thought she was a stupid kid.

Err! Why did she have that stupid Deer in the Headlights moment? She's beaten Josh in class tons of times! Why, why, why did she have to freeze then?

She'd had a perfect opportunity to show off her skills and she blew it.

"And _**you**_ paid the price" she murmured, staring again at his striking eyes.

Eyes that were probably swollen shut now…

Man, she should've just taken the bus, and spared him all the drama.

"_I'm her boyfriend."_

Even now, recalling that made her flush. Sure she knew he was just saying that to help her out. But it was the _**way**_ he'd said it. With such confidence, no, certainty … like it was a fact … the sky's blue, we live on Earth, frogs are amphibians, and oh yeah, we're going out.

It gave her a dangerous sort of hope. Even though, her common sense kept telling her that any chance she had was done.

Come on, after all that …he probably hated her guts.

He hadn't said ANYTHING when she'd told him goodbye the other day. Yeah, Gaston had pulled away really fast, but …

She'd said "I'm sorry" and he didn't say anything …

And when she asked Gaston about it, he'd just shrugged. No message. No "_tell Franny, it's fine."_

She swallowed the lump in her throat. And she'd tried to kiss him! Maybe he hadn't wanted that! Maybe she misunderstood!

No … he'd pulled her down before … Gaston showed up.

Well, maybe it was just because he was a boy. Boys take kisses even from girls they don't like because of hormones.

But was Cornelius that kind of boy?

She shook her head.

Regardless…regardless of whatever the case was… she needed to buck up and apologize…properly. Not just a toss away "I'm sorry."

So what if she was nervous? So what if she was thoroughly embarrassed. It had to be done.

After all, Framaguccis weren't known for being timid and she had to restore her name.

* * *

"There's no doubt about it. She thinks I'm a doofus" Cornelius grumbled from his spot at the picnic table. "Worse…a really uncoordinated doofus who bruises easily."

So far none of his professors and classmates had guessed the cause behind his injuries. They were split on the reason why: either he'd been mugged or one of his inventions revolted. While he'd had to suffer a few jokes at his expense, they'd all accepted it easily enough.

It was his parents who'd freaked out.

He groaned and laid his head on the table, and stared at a happy couple strolling through Tomorrow University's campus.

"I don't see why this is such a big deal" Nancy replied flatly—annoyed by the constant rehashing of his woe—he'd spent the last week bemoaning his lameness.

Neil glared at her as she poked at her salad more viciously than normal—the cafeteria issued plastic fork just wasn't up to par.

"You don't GET it, Nancy" Kyle announced as he munched on Cheetos. "It all boils down to the Macho Meter."

Nancy arched an eyebrow.

"It's true," sighed Cornelius. "My caveman ancestors would be disappointed. I should've _**won**_ that fight! I had every motivation necessary!"

"You're being ridiculous. She couldn't have mistaken you for some kind of body-builder-adventurous type. You're a science guy, a gadgeteer like Kyle. Being a pansy comes with the territory."

"Hey!" Both boys protested angrily.

"Oh don't even argue" she snapped "Kyle you're taking a Shakespearean Literature class for kicks—I've seen you, you enjoy iambic pentameter. And Neil! You're entering the mad scientist zone the way you coddle that prototype of yours."

"C4RL is easily distressed. He-"

"IT" she emphasized "is a machine. And I've seen that machine Neil. You don't even make burly robots."

"C4RL is a domes-well-assistant styled-"

"Say it. Domestic. He's a domestic robot. He's not a destroyer of worlds or guardian of super-secret phlebotinum. He's a secretary."

"No! No … he doesn't…just organize stuff…he can do…other things."

"Ah right, how could I forget, we saw him ironing laundry last time, didn't we Kyle?"

"Hey his sensors know the perfect temperature required for button-up shirts-"

"ALL I'm saying" Nancy interrupted loudly "is come on folks, if RIGHT this second a ninja came out of those bushes. I'd be the only one with even _**half**_ a chance of outrunning him. So Neil, there wasn't even a slim possibility that you would triumph—he was a boulder, you were gonna get crushed."

"The lady doth protest too much"

"So I'm a total loser, gee thanks Nance you're a real pal. That's exactly the sort of pep talk I needed."

"Relax, I mean you knocked a tooth out. For regular people that'd be 50 points. For you that's gotta count for at least 100."

Cornelius ran a hand through his hair, "She hasn't called me, and…I'm kinda afraid her dad'll pick up if I try. And she hasn't been online. Or if she HAS been online, she's been keeping her status as "invisible" which means she's avoiding me on purpose. Which means-"

"That you're developing some stalker-ish habits, my friend."

He frowned and pulled a crumpled brown bag from his satchel. Great. His peanut butter sandwich was completely squashed.

He gave a growl of frustration. Unless he wanted to eat it with a spoon, lunch was canceled.

He made his way to the trashcan.

"Where are you going?" Nancy called after him.

"The trashcan Mother! You know, provided that ninjas don't ambush me!"

Before any retort could be made, a feminine voice rang out:

"Hey! C-Cornelius? Hey?"

The blond felt his mouth go slack.

"Oi, Cornelius! Thy lady becketh!"

"Huh?"

He very nearly walked straight into a pole adding yet another injury to his laundry list of ailments. Because it couldn't be…could it?

There, standing astride a rusty red bike, was Franny…Beautiful Franny with her hair in a simple ponytail, that adorable cowlick defying gravity.

He glanced at the old boy's bike beside her. The girly tassels on the handlebars and white basket were clearly efforts to feminize it, but somehow they only enforced the feeling that it was a hand-me-down.

She straightened her flowery blouse, as if bashful of his intent gaze.

He blinked. When did he walk over to her? His head whipped over to where Nancy and Kyle were sitting watching. Dang, he couldn't even remember! She was definitely an anomaly who distorted his sense of time.

"Um" she bit her lip. "I…well…I would've made you cookies or brownies or something, but uh well, we didn't have chocolate chips and I…um, but what we did have. I mean well, I-"

"Here" she pulled a heavily foiled pan from her basket. "I made it in cooking class; Mama's making me take it." She made a face. "Didn't make Gaston or Art do it."

"Uhh" His eyes were on her hair. So…was she wearing it like that … because of what he'd said. Was she wearing it like that for him?

"Not that I don't like cooking or that I'm not good at it, cuz I am. Which is-I-"

"What's in the pan?" asked Nancy abruptly.

Franny's lips pursed into a line.

"Franny?"

Cornelius gently pried the pan from her white knuckled grasp. He pulled a corner up "Oh its lasagna! For me?"

"Yeah" she scuffed a toe on the ground "it's a 'I-hope-you-don't-hate-me-after-that-fiasco-cuz-I'm-super-sorry' snack."

"Don't be silly. None of that was your fault."

She glanced up at him hesitantly, as if gauging his sincerity.

"I feel kinda responsible for-" she waved a hand at his eyes "this"

"Don't. He's a creep. You…you're not gonna have to see him again at your dojo are you?" The thought made his stomach squirm. He didn't want her anywhere near that jerk.

"I was worried about that too, but Gaston spoke to Marcello who talked to Ferdinand who heard Gertie and Nicky talking and Josh up and quit. Weird huh?"

Cornelius didn't say anything at all. Well that solved one mystery. Looked like Gaston and Art paid someone a little visit.

Oddly enough it made him feel better.

Sure it meant things were going to be…difficult for him but once he had proven himself to them and was accepted into the fold…

It meant he could rely on them to watch out for Franny…and one day for Wilbur too.

He felt his smile widen as he looked into Franny's doe eyes.

Gosh she reminded him of Wilbur.

That cowlick…

That complexion…

Those eyes…

That glint of mischief in them…

The way their eyebrows would lift in a _'Yeah, I just broke the rules to get my way. Whatcha gonna do about it?'_

He blinked as it struck him, "H-how are you here, I mean—wait a minute, don't you have school? Or was it a minimum day? You-"

"Don't worry about it," she waved a dismissive hand "Lizzy's covering for me." She giggled and gave him a conspiratorial wink.

"You…you ditched?" he asked aghast.

"Well, it wasn't gonna stay warm otherwise" she indicated the pan.

He glanced at the casserole and then at her hopeful expression.

She offered him a plastic fork.

His stomach growled and he quickly took it.

Best decision of the day, it was sooo gooooooood.

"Do you like it?" she asked him shyly, tucking a dark strand of hair behind her ear.

"This. Mmm, this is reeeeaaaallly good. I mean it. This is delicious."

She giggled as he wolfed down mouthfuls of cheese and pasta.

"Nancy, why don't you cook for me to show me your affection" Kyle whined as he came on the scene.

"Trust me, I'm showing you affection by NOT cooking"

"I'm glad you like it" Franny replied, rather breathlessly "I better go though, Mr. Stevens will only buy Lizzie's excuses for so long."

Neil chewed and swallowed. "Lemme give you a ride."

"Nah! I got my bike, I'll be fine."

"I've got a rack. Dad and I installed it when we camping."

"YOU went camping" she asked, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Well…we tried."

"Neil, you can't miss class" Nancy interrupted "You know Professor Callen always starts it with a pop quiz."

"Nancy it's fine."

"Neil-" Nancy growled.

"She's right, Cornelius. I-I don't want to impose-"

"Franny honestly, I'd feel better if I gave you ride back. I mean by this time traffic's gotta be terrible. It's the lunch rush."

"Your test-"

"Just a quiz"

"You miss one and you're grade point average will lower. Bye bye Mr. Valedictorian."

He sent Nancy a furious look.

"No, she's right I oughta get going-"

"I haven't seen you on the computer!" he gushed desperately .

"That's because Gaston's been hogging it for his finals! And … well I kinda owe him too."

Cornelius felt his teeth grind a bit more.

Gaston … Thwarting him again!

The bell rang and he watched her take off, nearly giving him a heart attack when she cut off a red SUV in the parking lot.

As she swerved up and onto the sidewalk ignoring the honks, Cornelius had a revelation: he thinks he knows now where Wilbur gets it from.

"She's a firecracker. I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Science Guy."

"What the heck is your problem?" He exploded.

"Sheesh Neil, I'm doing you a favor."

"By sabotaging me?"

"By letting you maintain some dignity. You've got to set some limits. Otherwise you'll be eating out of the palm of her hand."

The sudden image of her in a toga feeding him grapes with her dainty little fingers sent a rather pleasant tingle through him.

"Ew. You're thinking something perverted aren't you?"

He choked. Not quite able to deny it.

"Boys."

* * *

That night (much to Cornelius pleasure) Franny's status was online.

Who cared if they'd started chatting at 9pm and it was 1:13am? Or that he had an essay that was due tomorrow for his European History Final that he hadn't even started?

No…what mattered was that she'd finally accepted that he had no hard feelings about the karate fiasco. And then she'd just opened up to him and they were gabbing about anything and everything.

**FroggyPrincess4Ever: **_Gaston's graduation is next week, ya know assuming he doesn't _

_bomb his last tests. Papa says we're having a barbecue. You could be my guest!_

Cornelius grinned at the little winking smiley face finishing her sentiment, and quickly typed his response.

**ScienceGuy:** _It'd be my pleasure. Let me know what day and time._

He sat back in his computer chair, feeling monstrously pleased with himself.

**Phase 2: Garner Acknowledgment.**

**Completed. **

Good. He had Franny's attention.

He smiled as he downloaded the e-Invite, she sent him. Then with an obvious reluctance, she typed that she ought to go to bed. Since, it was only a matter of time before somebody needed a glass of water and realized she was still on the computer.

He agreed that he needed to turn in and that maybe they could talk tomorrow?

He sighed, utterly content before swiftly standing up and stretching.

Definitely. She'd said "_Definitely" _before she logged out.

With three exclamation points no less!

Cornelius grinned as he approached his "Mission Board."

Alright, Neil time to launch _**Phase 2.5 Familial Acceptance**_.

What was great about that was they didn't even have to really like him! He just had to earn their tolerance. Get them to accept him as boyfriend material. That way he could continue wooing without interruption.

Gaston would be tricky of course, but Neil wasn't going to be scared off so easily. Not when Franny chose him as _**her**_ guest.

Wow, he was doing better than he thought. He'd tricked out his parents' old Candy Land game board and hot glued it to his corkboard.

Having attached a tack into a blue game piece (that he'd swiped from their 'Sorry!' board) he took great care in setting it into the next box on the path.

Alright Neil, this is it! Once you get through this you'll have a definite shot!

His smile faltered a bit. Timing was everything. If he backslid now, all his efforts would be null and he'd have to start over.

Still, he was almost through the most challenging part of all—getting himself successfully through the "Molasses Swamp" or as his post-it renamed it "THE FRIEND ZONE."

* * *

Read and Review Pleeeease!


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